fault creep and historical hair
those of you who tumbl, is there way to show all your tags on one page?
there's a town in california being slowly twisted out of whack by fault creep, which seems to be kind of like the very, very slow shifting of the tectonic plates under the earth. (the instruments used to measure fault creep are called creepmeters. hee.) it would be imperceptible except for the fact that it's bending sidewalks and roads and walls in this town.
one of my favorite parts of that article is the mention of a bridge built over the san andreas fault like a "giant, doomed staple". hee.
in the further annals of historical hair, 100 years of hair and makeup brings you a century of mexican hair. i think the 40s and 50s are my favorites, altho the 70s hair is really cute.
I Love the Hour Just Before
a party. Everybody
at home getting
ready. Pulling
on boots, fixing
their hair, planning
what to say if
she's there, picking
a pluckier lipstick,
rehearsing a joke
with a stickpin
in it, doing
the last minute
fumbling one does
before leaving for
the night like
tying up the dog or
turning on the yard
light. I like to think
of them driving,
finding their way
in the dark, taking
this left, that right,
while I light candles,
start the music softly
seething. Everything
waiting. Even
the wine barely
breathing.
--Todd Boss
there's a town in california being slowly twisted out of whack by fault creep, which seems to be kind of like the very, very slow shifting of the tectonic plates under the earth. (the instruments used to measure fault creep are called creepmeters. hee.) it would be imperceptible except for the fact that it's bending sidewalks and roads and walls in this town.
one of my favorite parts of that article is the mention of a bridge built over the san andreas fault like a "giant, doomed staple". hee.
in the further annals of historical hair, 100 years of hair and makeup brings you a century of mexican hair. i think the 40s and 50s are my favorites, altho the 70s hair is really cute.
I Love the Hour Just Before
a party. Everybody
at home getting
ready. Pulling
on boots, fixing
their hair, planning
what to say if
she's there, picking
a pluckier lipstick,
rehearsing a joke
with a stickpin
in it, doing
the last minute
fumbling one does
before leaving for
the night like
tying up the dog or
turning on the yard
light. I like to think
of them driving,
finding their way
in the dark, taking
this left, that right,
while I light candles,
start the music softly
seething. Everything
waiting. Even
the wine barely
breathing.
--Todd Boss