classic hannah grunge!

High and Dry - Radiohead
You’d kill yourself for recognition
Kill yourself to never ever stop
You broke another mirror
You’re turning into something you are not

(Source: play-listings, via olives-and-milk)

I was just getting used to living life without you around.

this is me erryday

(Source: thorinium, via vonderz)


When you are a woman and you use a confessional narrative, people tend to think there is not some more complex structure of thinking or philosophy behind that narrative. I needed to bring some of that background thinking more to the fore, otherwise, it failed…

… I am passionate about ideas. They’re not just the stuff of spectatorship and entertainment to me. They’re a life-blood, and that’s what makes the intellectual process so radically different from the academic process.

Part of the challenge for insurgent intellectuals, particularly those of us who are artists in this society, is to pull back from academe, actually, and academic settings, precisely to break this notion that has become so popular in the culture, that the two experiences are one.


— bell hooks, in interview with Lawrence Chua (BOMB magazine, issue 48, 1994)

(Source: radtransfem, via famphic)



This is the first shoot of the photo series.  I’m still in the process of deciding on other fruit options and trying to figure out how to open that coconut.

(via emma-soup)

(Source: pushthemovement, via vonderz)


To Mama I was her thirty-three-year-old that moved out of home. She was scared for me. To her I was a kid with a drug problem who stole money from her purse. Her driver. A substitute for the love of her husband, someone to cook for, clean for and complain about.

Mediterranean matriarchs are…

(Source: cointreaucomfort, via vonderz)

(Source: wildbindi, via vonderz)

At the end of the week I tell my husband that I am going to try harder to make things matter.

I had better tell you where I am, and why. I am sitting in a high-ceilinged room in the Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu watching the long translucent curtains billow in the trade wind and trying to put my life back together.

There is a lust that never goes out