Rain dribbling down the window of a stationary bus, rain stretching finely sideways on the window of an extremely fast train, fine rain penetrating games’ shirt during a filthy cross-country run in 1988, heavy straight down rain machine-gunning a skylight window while wrapped in the friendly arms of workless influenza, the sweet green quiet rain of a Russian forest in spring,  the applause of rain on a cassette awning, the papping of rain on soaked combat trousers, rain straggling hair around a face happy to see you, rain beading on curly-kale leaves, winter rain shivering in 7pm rushhour headlights, a single plop of rain rolling off a tree into an abandoned ale, neverending end of the world rain.

Rain, you are welcome.

Image provided courtesy of the peerless Andreas Hykade


I used to be loosely associated with the ‘Dark Mountain Collective’, then left, unimpressed with its ‘leadership’, then, a few months ago, I was invited to contribute to their most recent book which I agreed to, because I know that some DM readers are interested in my work. I think it was probably a mistake, but no matter. Point is, although I am grateful for their early support, and although I believe the collective is wide enough to include many good folk, and even a few authentically radical voices, I am utterly opposed to the philosophy — not to mention the modi operandi — of its more prominent voices (people like Vinay Gupta, Andrew Taggart, Paul Kingsnorth, Dougald Hine, Alastair McIntosh, Shaun Chamberlin and David Fleming) for reasons which should be clear if you take a look through my work (edit: and my review of Lean Logic).

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