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    Copyright © 2015 unruly

    Storm is always what I want

    Last night was mad where I live. A storm blew up in the early evening and the sky went black and the rain was a swirling chaos and the thunder and lightning were slamming wildly in the atmosphere, and it was all feeling almost too close for comfort, and for me to say that is something, really something, because there is almost nothing I love more than bad weather.

    There were funnel clouds and tornados too, altho’ not right where I was, and then the sky turned green and it was like the world would maybe finally stop spinning on its axis, and I stood on my front porch watching the wild pulse and beat of it all and letting the wind drive the rain into me, because really truly, storm is delicious.

    Then I remembered last year in Dublin, when one morning I ran 5K alongside the Irish sea. It was a bad day according to the locals, stormy, a gale, they called it, and for true it was pretty inhospitable outside but I could think of nothing better than the wind and the rain and the saltwater banging up against me as I ran and looked out across foggy Dublin Bay. Bad weather always enchants me and roils me up in in a way that’s full of the loveliest shiver and shudder. Bad weather always makes me remember the curve of the world, always makes me remember my animal self, and bad weather always feels like love. I always want to walk straight into bad weather and be that figure you see in the distance, pushing up against the blizzard or the downpour or the punishing wind. I think I could live in a world that was mostly bad weather. Bad weather feels like something true.

    Later, after my run, I sat in my friend Ali’s kitchen, listening to the windows of her little cottage rattle and wondering if the wind might blow them in even as I knew of course it wouldn’t but enjoying entertaining the possibility nonethless, and I looked out at her walled garden and at the mad jump and jive of the windblown flora out there and I was deeply stirred and filled with joy at the thought of going out into it again, to meet up with Ali and to go to the place where the seals often are, and my expectations of that experience were fulfilled in all ways and then some, because the wild seals in the wild sea were the most perfect, charming creatures I ever laid eyes on, and the world of wind and wave was exactly the world I wanted.

    Storm is always what I want, as much of it as I can ever get.

    Tree distorted by raindrops by Clementine Oberst, July 2009
    Crushing Blow, 20 August 2009, via www.blogto.com
    Storm from the front porch by Paul Oberst, 20 August 2009
    Trees distorted by raindrops (2) by Clementine Oberst, July 2009
    Fallen Star 1/5 by Do Ho Suh, via c-monster.net
    Cause and Effect by Do Ho Suh, 2007
    Category 5 Storm by Susan Baran
    Houses distorted by raindrops by Clementine Oberst, July 2009
    Tracks Through the Field by Camille Seaman, via artnet.com
    Gathering storm by Clementine Oberst, 15 June 2008

    When I was about 10 or so, there were huge rainstorms that were flooding the town I grew up in. Dad told me to get my jacket on, my rainboots on, and he took me out, driving around, looking at all the damage, the flooding, the broken bridges, just how far the water had risen in the creek that ran through town. No one else was out there, either, middle of the day. Where i grew up, there wasn’t all that much weather to speak of, so I remember that vividly and I really, really liked it.

    Kim added these words on Aug 21 09 at 10:25 am

    I have never lived in a place where there wasn’t lots of big crazy changeable weather. I don’t think I ever could.

    Katy added these words on Aug 21 09 at 10:34 am

    i think the key is that bad weather – like, really bad, not just pussy spritz rain bad – is the presence of something. good weather is the absence. my favorite commutes are one through actively-falling, or just-falled (<– bahaa i really wrote that) *just-fallen* snow – because the entire drive, even though i’ve made it a couple thousand times before, is different. suddenly there’s act in the action, you know?

    i forget, have you been to iceland? man, you wanna talk weather… it was never sunny, nor foggy, nor raining, nor any single thing, for more than twenty or thirty minutes straight. the wind just kept blowing and blowing, and here’s the sun, and here’s a storm, and here’s some mist, and ALWAYS there are rainbows. we were there in summer, so it wasn’t cold, but it was that windblown nose-reddening raw, that you can’t help but stare straight into and take full on. really really awesome, and i can’t wait to go back.

    rache added these words on Aug 21 09 at 11:22 am

    This went down just as the third thunderstorm/downburst of the day hit at the Hillside Festival outside Guelph last month:

    Once the squall blew through, the show started again with everything moved back from the front of the stage.

    Owen Pallet is a master of stagecraft, but the look on his face here as the storm front blew directly in toward him approaching over the lake is genuine enough:

    Sean Richardson added these words on Aug 21 09 at 5:13 pm

    No, I haven’t been to Iceland. But I’ve pined for it all my life. And will get there someday, soon. The only danger is that I think if I get there I might never come back.

    Katy added these words on Aug 21 09 at 5:17 pm