For hvert sitat jeg ser av Maud Angelicas tale føler jeg en intens trang til å gå på flatfylla og banke møkka ut av noen. Ikke fordi det er noe galt med den lille prinsessens tale. Den var vakker og sterk og gripende og fikk meg til å begynne å grine. En ung kvinne, en… Continue reading Ikke be om hjelp! Krev din rett i stedet!
Author: Maria Magdalena Hulder
Tja, hva skal man si?
I come from the land of happiness and cross country skiing and awesome chessplayers with weird eyebrows; Norway. I'm a crazy bitch, an anarchist witch, I'm slightly overweight and my hair is getting grey. Enjoy!
Du er nr. 1 i køen – vennligst vent på svar!
Jeg blir holdt som gissel. I mitt eget hjem, i min egen kropp, av mitt eget hjerte, mine egne følelser; min egen jævla sentimentalitet. Jeg føler meg myk som en marsmallow. En bløt, klissen marsmallow som smelter i varm, søt sjokolade og fortæres av usentimentale vesener fra en usentimental verden jeg ikke forstår, der andres… Continue reading Du er nr. 1 i køen – vennligst vent på svar!
The Grinch and I
So has the day come for sorrow, hatred, anger and issues beyond repair; Christmas eve. I woke up crying with my tormented mind filled with images of extreme violence. The comming nights are so perfect for accidents pretty common for this holiday, like arson, or misplaced fireworks cutting off fingers and blowing up eyes, but… Continue reading The Grinch and I
Scheherazade – debatten om sløret
Scheherazade (persisk; شهرزاد šahrzād, betyr «av høy byrd») er den kvinnelige hovedpersonen og eventyrfortelleren i rammefortellingen i den arabisk/persiske Tusen og én natt. I denne samlingens fortellinger møter vi en persisk konge som krever å få en ny jomfru til kone hver kveld, men som halshogger den nye konen når morgenen kommer fordi han mener at alle kvinner… Continue reading Scheherazade – debatten om sløret
In memory of Luca Skywalker
In this little poem wrapped in tears and bad rymes, I give to her so ever lasting present, the gift of eternal life... You would think she was born on a stormy night with angels of death falling from the sky. She was in a rush, you see, cut out of mamas belly faster than a… Continue reading In memory of Luca Skywalker
Nylontauet og Sylvi Listhaug
Dagen etter at jeg ble kvinnelig Blystadlia-mester i spikerhamring på fotballbanen som igjen var dagen etter min 48'ende bursdag, våkna jeg opp til noen frier-meldinger på søndag morgen om hvor det ble av meg kvelden før. Jeg svarte som sant var, at jeg ikke visste hvor det hadde blitt av meg. Etter sporene i leiligheten… Continue reading Nylontauet og Sylvi Listhaug
I want a picture of your privates!
Yes, you read me right! I want a picture of your private parts. Or to be more correct; your penis. Your erected manhood. For an art project. I want to eternalize your heat-seeking moisture missile hopefully at an art event, or some fancy, big museum of modern art. Who knows? I believe the topic of… Continue reading I want a picture of your privates!
Hostage
I'm being held hostage. In my own home, in my own body by my own heart, my own emotions; my own damn sentimentality. I feel soft as a marshmallow. A soggy, sticky marshmallow melting in hot, sweet chocolate and devoured by unsentimental creatures from an unsentimental world I don't understand, where the pain and ruin,… Continue reading Hostage
A disastrous birthday
This was the day of regret and shame. Regret, not only because I haven't been able to stay sober for many days at a time, perhaps not more than three or four tops after the first week, but also because I spent the money I was supposed to spend on my japanese course, which I… Continue reading A disastrous birthday
In karma we trust
I no longer understand what my psychologist want from me. Off course it was a lot worse when I had a therapist who didn't understand me, but it's pretty darn frustrating not to understand your therapist either. That eternal ongoing nagging about getting intouch with my feelings. I don't get it. I feel like getting… Continue reading In karma we trust
