strange weathers

A little cooler this morning, some clouds lingering in the sky, the air holding the remnant clarity of overnight rain. A couple of coffees and off to the hill, cycling through quiet streets, humidity dropped towards bearable, sunlight broken by shards and shreds of cloud passing upon a cooling wind.

It's not busy on the hill, but then I'm distracted, lost in echoing news reports; the pro China populist mayor of Kaohsiung city losing a recall vote, forced out of office; the civic unrest stretching out across the planet, usual attempts at denial and dilution of the by those across the conservative spectrum, their discomfort visible and audible. How do you manipulate the situation, diminish the message being sent...

Passing the path down to the goddess of mercy temple, thinking about the slightly higher hills when there's a sudden darkening, wandering so lost in thoughts that the clouds had arrived unnoticed, until the first drops of rain begin to fall, the sound of them slapping upon leaves as the path disappears. There's an umbrella in my bag but there's no thought to extract it, content beneath the heavy drops, wishing that they were a few degrees colder, the only thought being the question of whether to take my top off and fully embrace the moment. I'm already soaked, it's kind of pointless, but the thought brings a smile, and a memory of Kerala, dancing topless in the street as the first rain for months hit in the shape of a thunderstorm. Moving downhill, the rain calming down, take shelter, remove my top, ringing it, watching the murky liquid pool around my feet, the breeze chill damp flesh. Top back on, walking, through gentle drizzle, feeling my top drying out despite the continuing rain; looking back mists are already rising from the foliage, wispy clouds rising. And then the downpour returns, soaking me once again; the sound of thunder from beyond the hills, no lightnings to illuminate the hour, only the dark forbidding clouds, the rebounding splatters of rain upon road and pavement as their loads are unleashed...

Back in the flat, reading the papers, a sense of familiarity as I look at photographs of mounted police, batons raised, read about the “violent and hostile scenes officers faced yesterday....” to quote a spokesman....while a 75 year old man "tripped up" in Buffalo NY...I think to myself that it hasn't changed much in the last 30 years, at least it looks like the same old shit. I remember the mounted police coming in at us, batons raised, on the Poll Tax demo's, the sound of truncheons as they attacked protesters for the crime of sitting down. An anti nazi demo, the first experience of kettling, caught up when they blocked the road, watching the panic, the crowd held back by uniforms with no insignia to be seen, a bad one. But I also recall the way that the media reported these events, words and images bearing little or no resemblance to what we'd experienced, where the police, or whoever were wearing those unmarked uniforms, were the instigators of any unrest... I suppose it taught us that these official reports need to be taken with a pinch of salt - it's good to see that they're being filmed, that when they play their old game of innocence and provocation there's a chance that they'll get caught out. But once again, looking west, it seems that even with video evidence their unions and colleagues don't give a fuck. Maybe that's got to be the next step, to demilitarise society....




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgE1KAfFAMc