get phree!

postscripted june 4, 4pm

Orlando is notorious for daily thunderstorms every June. (June, 2005 rainfall accounted for almost 30 percent of the entire year’s. It was 15 inches, and the median of all other months was 2.6”.)

I love it because it’s not the type of dismal weather NY has. It’s sudden and violent — usually a 30 minute surge that’s too quick to allow the sun to completely disappear.

There’s something supernatural about these storms. The thunder rolls in sooner than the rain and in those few anticipatory minutes, like a canine, your brain is harassed as you hear it subconsciously. Something seems slightly off and you won’t be able to place it until the thunder roars right above you, like God himself shot at your roof with a 4-gauge shotgun loaded with absolute truth.

Next you’ll hear the rain, which has the velocity and volume of a firehose. Here, the rain doesn’t fall— it flies sideways and, you’ll sometimes swear, up. It looks like a huge cloud as it swirls in all directions, and the still shining sun delivers just enough light to display ghostlike patterns of wind ripping throughout. These aren’t the types of storms that complement hot cocoa and a warm blanket. These are the storms that compel you to run outside naked and frenziedly rip trees from the ground with your bare hands.

Then the quiet comes (when this video was shot) and you’ll feel reborn and hopeful. The city just taught you a lesson: it’s greater than you, but you own it. The land, the rivers, the skyscrapers, the industries. All of it is yours and you must nurture it.


(on a sidenote: I had a dream last night that my office building installed a resort style pool in the landscaped atrium. I could take a five minute break to swim some laps and grab a towel from the cabana. I think getting soaked shooting this video triggered that one.)