torsdag 1. desember 2011
you are probably curious about the bouncing castle. Yes it is ours for the project.. but that is not the point right now, becaouse i cant bounce of my problems.....
Lately I am talking to a lot of friends, who are all in a vey confused moment, like myself. We are nothing else, but millions of people out here, dealing with our own issues, and no one and nothing are excluded.
How the peep, did we manage to make it so difficult for our selves?
To be a princess means, I suppose to be bigger then yourself. To be your own lawyer, to realise you have been treated wrongly, but not treat other wrongly as they have treated you. To rise up and say, fine, I fucked up, but damn it in hell I will make it right. To allow people to fail, to value failure for the growth it gives.
I have never been a princess other then in a pretty costume. I have kept my finest skirts on tight, worn the crown, but seldom in my life have I been a more princess then what I feel like today. This is a good day to wear pink, to wear our failure like a crown, to love the parts that we are shamed about and to stand damn strong when the hurricane comes. This is not really about performing a princess, it is about being one. One of the good ones.
fredag 29. april 2011
I am in Athens, and beyond all other things then blogging, i should prepare for our creation that is premiering here tomorrow… But then again, I would never forgive myself if I would not comment on the extension of the long line of princesses.. More important, one from the outside, one to make us all remember, that everyone has the right to dream.
The royal line of England is something quite different from my own here in Norway. Even in Greece the royal line is something different, that is, it is no more then a vague memory followed by the sad chapters of war.
To me personally, UK is the concept itself when it comes to Royalties, everything after UK seems to be just a shadow of the old days, when crown and glitter really mattered. Princesses has as we all know evolved from trading product of peace and land to strong business woman… But some how, we will never be quite finish with the melancholy tears followed by the echo of “Yes, I do”, the dresses and so on so forth… UK is a shining example of this.. Keeping traditions ongoing and strong.. God Save the queen, yes, but for today and today only and perhaps only on this Blogg… God save the Princess.
torsdag 27. januar 2011
If I was a princess I’d first take a few minutes to revel in my new found power to get other people to do stuff for me. I now have, within my beautifully bejeweled hand, the hearts and minds of millions of pre-teen girls and boys. These impressionable youngsters will concede to my every will and desire because I’m hot and popular and maybe / probably in distress and / or danger. I swim in my new found power like Scrooge McDuck in his money vault! Girls want to be me. Boys want to get with me. There has never been a more deeply motivated bunch. Check out any given fairytale or grade school classroom. Popular, hot, distressed girls get people to do seriously sociopathic stuff. See: The Legend of Zelda, Orpheus, Heathers, that really hot girl that sat next to me in 7th grade science class.
If I was a princess I’d dress the part. No more of this demure, woman of the people crap. I want serious taffeta. I want pearls and corsets and all that junk. And tiaras. There would be a hell of a lot more tiaras; it’s not a hat, it’s not a head band, it’s the only really reliable way to get diamonds to stick in your hair. Being not quite Princess, I’ve tried just combing the diamonds in, I’ve tried affixing them permanently like little hair plugs for the rich and balding but nothing makes my locks go BLING like a tiara. See: Queen Alexandra of Russia, drag queens taking it to the next level, my Halloween costume as Miss. Saudi A-Labia circa 2001.
If I was a princess I’d eat eggs every day for every meal. Because nothing says; ‘I’m lord-ette of the land’ like consuming an animal’s unborn. Caviar, roe, quail eggs, veal eggs, fiddleheads, the whole lot. Animal Kingdom, you’re my bitch and to prove it I’m going to tuck in to a big ol’ portion of your potential offspring. The key word is potential. I could eat your already living young and that would be a statement and all but that’s after they’ve been born and you’ve gotten to know them a bit. Sure it’s bad-ass and royal to eat baby cows and pigs and ducks and ferns but not bad-ass enough because maybe the kid’s been born and he’s cute and all but he’s a pain in the ass and doesn’t sleep through the night and has his grandmother’s beak and his mother’s love of spending money that’s not hers and maybe it’s not so bad that he’s ‘taken for a walk’ in the middle of the night and doesn’t come back. Maybe you’re sad for a few days but get over it as it’s always easier to live with the ghost of ‘a wonderful innocent boy that was taken before his time’ than ‘an ungrateful, elephantine little twerp that won’t move out of the manger and still expects me to pay his cell phone bill’. See: The Bible, Kashrut, untalented sons and daughters of legitimately good artists that try and make a go in the industry.
If I was princess I’d organize all of the NGOs working in Haiti. Really, it’s a fucking problem over there and no one’s really doing shit about it. Tons of groups working with overlapping mandates, demands and desires doing their best but without any kind of infrastructure, oversight or communication between them. It’s a mess and we really have to do something about it.
If I was a princess I’d be sure to marry someone from another country that maybe we were at war with or maybe were just having issues with so we could, you know, smooth things over and assure good communication and prosperity and non-aggression and such. Lets bring back the old school diplomacy; I’m fourteen and hot and you’re fifteen and hooked up and we get together because my dad and your dad want to make sure our countries don’t fuck with each other so much but fuck with the British even though seven years from now we’ll wish we hadn’t gotten involved at all and in the mean time I get to sleep with a ton of other dudes and love to party and spend all the money that should go to keeping the country together on like cakes and Converse and stuff. Yeah, that was some serious statesmanship. See: Marie Antoinette (the movie), Marie Antoinette (the Wikipedia article), Ben Affleck and J-Lo and the disastrous nuptials surrounding the movie Gigli.
If I was princess I’d have a four poster bed with gauzy drapes. It’s like a room within a room! It’s like a pillow fort, but for girls! Good for keeping mosquitoes out! Hides unsightly blemishes when you’re lying in the bed all naked and seductive and someone’s standing outside the bed considering your nakedness and there are candles and swooshy music and you’re maybe a little concerned about your cellulite even though you’re fourteen and he’s only fifteen but you really really have to make a baby like TONIGHT or else both of your counties are going to, I dunno, explode and starve and tumble in to revolution. See: Madonna and Willem Dafoe having gross candle sex in Body of Evidence.
If I was a princess I’d give my life so that unicorns could exist. It’s the penultimate sacrifice for a real blue blooded princess to make. Because really, what is a princess but a unicorn in human form? She represents all the possibility, all the dreams, all the magic of a one horned horse but she happens to be shaped like a girl. Everyone knows that the only way to bring unicorns back to this earth is for a real live princess to throw herself in to an active volcano singing Iron Maiden’s Run To The Hills. The Iron Maiden song ensures the unicorns aren’t the pink pussyfooted ones that prance about on rainbows but are the streamlined killing machine kind who’s lust for blood and power is rivaled only by it’s obsession for sparkles and hugs. See: Narwhals, Meg Ryan in Joe Vs The Volcano, Madonna having gross candle sex in Body of Evidence.
onsdag 19. januar 2011
Tonight I am wondering what it is to have it all... to be fully content, to posses slightly more then you can bother to handle. Content to that level, that you whisper very low to yourself, -"this is the definition of amazing and i am about to burst." ...and so you pop! Poff!
I have never met such a person, -which actually popped. I have met people popping for various reasons, but non of them where out of content." I am not sure if content can make you pop". I know eggs and hamsters explode if kept in a heated micro oven for too long, but not out of content.
This might be just a mortal concern, and content should probably not kill you. Better perhaps to put you at ease, -a slow and endless loving embrace of chocolate covered death. That is how i want my content to come through.
What does a content Princess do differently from a content hamster?
What are the thoughts of a content farmer?
...and some people would not recognise content if it jumped up and bit them.
Dead stray, long legged mountain dog. Was his thoughts.
He carried them as an aborted new born towards the bin, where pulse had just started and soon was to rest. Days had been passing in a similar series of thought, and for no misshaped reason at all, it made him content.
torsdag 6. januar 2011
This is one of those days, and you probably think, “oh no, not one of those days.”. But in fact so is the situation. Mary had her twins; in if not by know, dreadfully very soon… What else? Wiki- leaks the truth on that there has been speculations to dump the royal family of Britain, as the head of common wealth. Little new on this front, in fact too long has it been, that heads where rolling through the streets at the feet of an angry mob. I want an angry mob for my birthday.
But something has changed for the better, at least here about up in the northern Kingdom as the Arts Council have, plodded their tiny heads together for the sake of common good and granted gold. To whom you may ask? Well of brightly course to the sake of rightfully portraying princesses, and by whom… unforgettable myself.
Now that curtains are pulled aside, I want to thank the princesses who has in silent pulled the strings of admiration, glory and eternal …. () Now I am getting ahead of myself, because I still do not know whom you are, but by all means, I am grateful for your need of attention…
To the horses…..!!!!
Where does my quest go from here?
Which ship should I sail on and will you stand by my side?
How should I approach you, will you dance disco if I ask?
How do you change the world, and how can I help?
What pink is your favourite colour, and what do you hate about your people?
Have you killed for beauty, or dribbled death down the grass?
So many questions and such long time to figure them all out…
As always, I am looking forward for you acquaintance.
Kind regards Rudi Skotheim Jensen, jester at you side.
Ps, I have friends to.
onsdag 15. desember 2010
lørdag 27. november 2010
I am not risking having your beauty secrets shattered across the Internet, but occasionally I have the slight sensation that you dress up better, then how you actually feel. This might be a problem. Now I am only trying to be a friend, and by friend’s law, we can easily have a slumber party and still get along. I think you look spectacular non-the-less, half naked or half undressed.
I sometimes simply fear that you censor yourself when you should scream, that you keep yourself locked away in the tower, with only a mirror, a draftee window but no shower… you smell bad close up, but look grate from a far.
If you want to learn to dance, you train your feet skills, and if you want to be skilled in emotional conversation, you get a shrink. I probably need both, and I can break the ice for the both of us.
Well.. I just wanted you to know that you are not alone.