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Citta Violenta.

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Toward a radical middle

a time for fear
Tuesday, August 05, 2003  
It's hoooot!

The tube system swelters. It's stricken by delays and all you can smell is sweat mixed with perfume, cologne, Faberge and Sure deodorant, make-up and hair gel perfection wilting before it's even 9am. People pack in at Liverpool Street to get off at Bank and Chancery Lane, they ram into carriages, people's backs and necks bend as the doors close, risking decapitation. Tubes move slow in the heat, constantly delayed between stations, stuck in the sooty, oppressive, rat-ridden blackness. This heat is an event. You could have just walked.

Meanwhile across the UK trains are delayed as railway lines buckle.

It's not that hot, not as hot as Kuwait or California. We don't understand oppressive heat. I die in this air conditioning. I'm actually cold right now. Not just cold: my brain feels chilled, I feel a dead wind running through my veins, my body feels hollow.

Most city riots occur when the temperature is between 27c - 32c. 32c is the upper limit, any higher than this and people are too hot to bother. The majority of urban riots occur in this bracket, from the LA to the 2001 Oldham riots.

London's murder rate peaks in the summer months. During the unusually hot summer of 1988, New York's murder rate jumped by 75%.

Well tomorrow I'm going to a beach in South Wales for 2 days, so goodbye you psychopaths.

10:39 AM

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