goin' to the us of a

I'm going to New York tomorrow, and then off to Chicago (my mum and I's annual pilgrimage to the good old USA). I'm so excited to go back, but I know it's going to go so fast and then I'll be back to school. ugh.

Definitely bringing my instant fujifilm camera, which I have totally neglected until now, keeping it to collect dust on my shelf pretty much wholly for aesthetic pleasure. It is pretty damn adorable though - you can't blame me.

(see?)

I can't wait to go, for so many reasons; the people and the shops and the vibes and the weather and the art/inspiration of museums and things and the lurve of family (and the fact that I will be in the same state as tavi).

I should probably be packing or practicing guitar or something.

-Hannah x

(P.S. I'm really tired (and have a headache))

solange knowles

I admit, I am VERY late to the Solange scene. As in, I knew she existed about 2 years ago and only listened to her music today...

SHE IS SO RAD OMG.

I feel bad for her in a way, since Beyonce is a QUEEN and more famous than her.

But the first thing I thought when I was watching Solange's video 'Losing You' was: "uh she is so much cooler".

HER HAIR AND CLOTHES ARE PERF. 

-Hannah

virgin suicides film review

For school we made a magazine (which I was actually really excited about, being me), and I did a 'proper' film review of The Virgin Suicides, as oppose to my earlier gushing. Anon, you shalt read...

Set in the unnerving American suburbs, The Virgin Suicides, directed by Sofia Coppola and based on the book by Jeffery Eugenides, is a compelling narration of the Lisbon sisters’ short lives. Unlike most stories, The Virgin Suicides is told collectively, by a group of boys who had become obsessed with the sisters, falling in love with the girls in their adolescent naivety. Indeed they still do, unable to forget the sisters 25 years later. The girls’ story is pieced together with flashbacks; nostalgic experiences the boys had clung to, trying to understand the enigmatic Lisbon sisters (though never succeeding).

The story begins so: it’s the leafy Michigan suburbs in summer, the Lisbon family lives across the street; with their dad, a maths teacher at the local high school, dominated by their mum, an oppressive, devout Christian, and the five mysteriously beautiful golden-haired daughters (specifically Lux, the main object of desire, played by Kirsten Dunst). However, the summery feeling is soon eradicated with the scene of Cecilia (Hanna Hall) peacefully floating in a pink bath of her own blood, having slit her wrists in an attempted suicide. At the hospital, her doctor says: “What are you doing here? You’re not old enough to know how bad life gets.” To which Cecilia replies: “Obviously, doctor, you’ve never been a 13-year-old-girl.”

After an examination, the doctor suggests Cecilia should get some of the male company she and her sisters had so long been deprived of. So ensues the first and last of the sisters’ parties; an awkward, adult-monitored collection of teenagers making small-talk in the family basement. The same night Cecilia impales herself, jumping onto the fence outside her bedroom window.

The remaining girls return to school as if nothing had happened, and soon convince their parents to let them go to the school prom. Lux, of course, attracts heartthrob Trip Fontaine, while sisters Bonnie, Mary and Therese are auctioned off to three other boys. The prom scene is a hazy nostalgia fest, with the yearning and lust of adolescence. Later that night, Lux loses her virginity to Trip on the football stadium field, waking up alone. She arrives home the next morning, and her mum goes wild with rage, locking the girls in the house. They are forbidden to leave, and are taken out of school. The boys watch the decomposing Lisbon house across the street, waiting.

The Virgin Suicides is scarily fitting with this month’s theme; from the boyish hopes and dreams of the hormonal narrators to the sun-drenched cinematography and the dreaminess, the nostalgia, the disconnectedness of the plot itself, this film is simply an alternate form of summer. The Virgin Suicides is an unsettling teenage romance, and it will not fail to seduce you with its vivid immediecy and beauty.

After reading the book myself, I wanted to wait for the ‘perfect time’ to watch The Virgin Suicides. I thought watching it on my own or with the right friend would make the experience magical. For a few weeks I anticipated this time, waiting. Inevitably, I gave up on waiting and watched it. And I discovered that it was magical anyway.

-Hannah

the virgin suicides

I watched The Virgin Suicides yesterday...finally...

It was amazing and I fell in love with every character and the bedroom scenes of the sisters were the most perfect thing ever and I love that Sofia Coppola kept the story exactly the same, because the words of Jeffrey Eugenides are pure gold. 

I was waiting a really long time to watch this film, for the 'perfect time'. I wanted it to be spiritual, and I thought watching it by myself or with friends would somehow make it more special but then I scrapped my anticipation and watched it with my dad.

The film so closely resembled all that The Virgin Suicides really is that I almost expected what was coming next. Nothing surprised me, and it was a natural experience to watch, if that makes sense. 

I feel so sorry for the father when he starts to go mad and gets fired. The angsty frustration of burning your beloved vinyl records was so beautifully portrayed by Kirsten Dunst, who surprisingly fitted Lux's character.

I could go on with my awkwardly-worded musings, but the cinematography of it was equally brilliant as everything else, so FILM STILLS TIME!

   

source
 

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And so much more...

-Hannah

tumblinnnnnnn

I forgot to mention I got a tumblr! Like, agessss ago!!! 

oops.

Also, GFC is closing rlly soon, so if you have bloglovin' then folllloooowww :) 

So here are some tumblr pictures I <3, anyway.

Sources are on my tumblr...hint hint.

-Hannah

i wrote a ballad yay

I wrote a ballad for homework and I am proud of my creation (hence my posting it on the internet (cringe)).

By the willowed river blue,

Down in the misty moor,

Beyond the flowers fresh with dew,

The Baron’s castle doth lure.

O, a story lies behind those walls,

Within those rooms of stone.

A tale of tragedy and love, it calls!

Anon, it shall be known.

Dalmony, the Baron’s son,

Arranged to soon be married,

He wished no wedding to be done,

Despite how his father harried.

Alas, his heart belonged to one,

Elsie, a lowly maid.

‘Twas an unrequited love,

His heart, it had forayed.

O Elsie, bonny love, mad as a loon

O Elsie, bonny love, sad as the moon

Her wild hair sprang from her head,

Her empty blue eyes drifted.

Her dainty lips, they twinkled red,

Her sanity had rifted.

She muttered spells unto herself,

Detesting to be touched.

Fair Elsie, rapt, delirious elf,

Dalmony’s heart she clutched.

O Elsie, bonny love, mad as a loon

O Elsie, bonny love, sad as the moon

In his chamber one shadow’d night,

At last they were alone.

How Dalmony loved the ghostly sprite,

O, only if she’d known!

A kiss on her cheek he desired,

His heart he did dandle,

A kiss on her cheek he acquired,

And from her hand slipped the candle.

O Elsie, bonny love, mad as a loon

O Elsie, bonny love, sad as the moon

The curtains, they set alight,

As Elsie’s eyes turned hollow.

The room had started to ignite,

She ran, he could not follow.

“What have I done?”

Cried the Baron’s son,

Extinguishing the flames.

O Elsie, bonny love, mad as a loon

O Elsie, bonny love, sad as the moon

At the break of dawn ere long

Rumors began to spread.

Drowning the castle in a baleful song;

“Elsie, the maid, she’s dead!”

They found her body lying still

Atop a bush of roses.

She jumped from the casement at her will,

A scrawled note in her hand discloses.

O Elsie, bonny love, mad as a loon

O Elsie, bonny love, sad as the moon

Dalmony, the Baron’s son,

Arranged to soon be married,

Took his life with a rifle gun

To the sky his soul was carried.

His love, she took her own life too,

Alas, it was his blunder.

If he hadn’t kissed his Elsie true,

Would they be alive, I wonder?

O Elsie, bonny love, mad as a loon

O Elsie, bonny love, sad as the moon

cringe cringe cringe

-Hannah

spring, summer, same thing

-Hannah

frida kahlo

A few days ago I was in the library and I had a sudden urge to take out a book about Frida Kahlo, because pretty much EVERYONE in the blogging universe loves her work and just HER.

As do I, now.

Her life story is absolutely fascinating on so many levels. How could you live your whole life in such pain? Even with polio at a young age which caused problems in one of her legs, and an accident that left her in hospital for a month with serious injuries to her spine and pelvis, causing numerous miscarriages and lifelong pain in her back, she made beautiful art, (not that beautiful is an eloquent enough word to describe her work) and was involved in the feminist movement. I think she is an incredible inspiration.

OH YEAH AND THEY HAD AWESOME PETS LIKE THIS ADORABLE THING AND SPIDER MONKEYS  AND BIRDS AND DOGS.

The flowers and the earrings and the pink and the blue <3

This my favourite of all her artwork ever. I love how everything flows together so seamlessly - the banner into the flower into the stem into her hair. She often uses her eyebrows as a focal point of her art, in this case as a bird splayed upon her  forehead, which is such a gorgeous metaphor. In the book I took out, this was just a tiny image in the corner of the page - but it was the first work that REALLY caught my eye. I couldn't look away. In every self-portrait her face is expressionless - her tears are the only indication of emotion. This work made me sad but it made me happy because it made me feel love. (Also, those earrings omg <3 <3 <3.)

-Hannah

back to the '80s

This is basically my dad's childhood.

Such nostalgic vibes~

sigh.

-Hannah