Special New Set Blog! (photos, ramblings, and even a saucy video!)

Oooh isn't it thrilling to see an occasional Staff Review set on the Front Page? Behold a new bit of nudie from your Manko, for once not themed, not too referential nor too over-dressed. I guess this set a tribute to bohemian musehood, where I imagine I am the bird for whom a tormented exiled poet wrote this beautiful poem (which lent the ostentatious title to my set):


I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.


(Pablo Neruda, July 12 1904 – September 23 1973)

It's strange to think that Suicidegirls.com turned 10 years old last week. I joined in October 2004; in those days girls' profiles asked "Why I did SG?" and I answered: "Because rehab is for quitters". Nearly 7 years later I'm still here, ageing disgracefully, who coulda thunk... And while I have enough class to refuse most modelling work these days, luckily for you I can never say no to Albertine, cause our shooting arrangements usually end up in outrageous adventures.

We hooked up in Naples earlier this summer, an outrageous Italian city hell-bent to bring Catholic kitsch into every nook and cranny of the crumbling old streets. After deciding that look was overdone, we got an early morning ferry to a volcanic island, completely overgrown by lemon trees.









You'd think there aren't many blonde girls in full makeup on 8am boats, judging by the speed in which I was summoned right to the captain's cabin - for courtesy espresso, which is basically a thimbleful of delicious black tarry liquid speed, and which probably accounts for the following episode. A few cups and cheesy giggles later I even got to hold the wheel of the ferry, when the leathery old captain suddenly stuck his hand down my bra!





The salty old dawg got away with a slap, because I, too, am an old sleazy pervert in a woman's body, so I could relate to his desperate urges. Plus, it was just like old Italian comedy. And after all, I was on my way to channel the muse of Pablo Neruda, who also wasn't much of a looker. Neruda was a Chilean poet who, during political exile to Italy, wrote his most erotic surrealist poetry on the very island the boat was approaching.





We took an itty bitty island bus with glammy old Italian ladies, crossed a majestic cemetery, then climbed steep black volcanic rocks to a secluded beach. Even in this wilderness there were dodgy geezers spying on us from boats and behind rocks, while I frolicked around in the buff posing for Albertine, channelling La Cicciolina with my long tresses damp with sea water...
Like this:


(the soundtrack is for the sake of kitsch, playful sarcasm and my love for Albertine)

After the shoot we met a manky scabby looking bunny, whom Albertine outright banned me from taking home to live with me and be my magickal familiar.

Before getting the boat back to civilisation, we ate an absurdly delicious pasta with sea urchin, mint, and lush local lemons.


And, of course, gelato.



There were many more Italian adventures once we got to Rome, but that's a story for another time, kids.



PS I'm now officially a public figure on FB.... Didn't really want to be, but there were so many fake ones, and this way I will at least have some content control. Imagine, some crazy sod even made a "Manko" profile so he could claim we were in a relationship and he could eagerly post soppy love messages from "me" on his wall. The creepiness of humanity knows no limits.