think demux

Pick, pack, pock, puck. Rain beats a rhythm and it changes the pulse.

Caught outdoors by the rain, people get wired. With a clear sky, they were flapping aimlessly like loose ends in the gentle breeze.

But steady rain snaps you into your circuit board. What were you doing? Where where you going? Well, do it quick and get going. Or it’s drowned rat o’clock.

Stand still in the street and you’re dead. Umbrella spokes zip past at guillotine height. Every man for himself. Selfishness rules the road. An electric chorus of angry.

I saw something different this time last year in Rio de Janeiro, staying on the Praia de Botafogo. It was Autumn and it didn’t rain much. But when it rained, you moved fast. Because it rained hard.

Everyone moved to the mall when it rained. It was the biggest sheltered public space.

Everyone was wet. Real wet. But they weren’t angry. Because it would just happen. It was relatively unpredictable, but they always knew what to do when it happened. Get to the mall.

Once they were there, and big numbers went there, it sparked random connections. Old friends would spot then snap each other with their mobiles in the glimpse of an escalator ride.

Click. Stop. The words are scampering too fast. What could any of this mean?

1. Running in the rain can make you a jerk-off (to bastardise an insight of Nassim Nicholas Taleb). Find shelter and watch the sparks fly. You’ll be constantly surprised.

2. Get drenched? It doesn’t matter when randomness brings you together with friends. And the black swan - the unpredictable high-impact event - can do that spectacularly.

(This post is available in very very amateur 3D, in case you’re still wondering about the doodles above.)

Georges Perec had a magnificent beard. The sort of beard you’d write home about. And the man behind the beard had a fine collection of ideas.

One runs like this: living in an apartment where there is one room for each day of the week. In each room, you undertake the tasks or pastimes your routine tends to on that given day.

I’m writing on a Wednesday. What would you need in your Wednesday room? I’d be comfortable with an armchair, a desk and a record player.

But if I wanted to meet friends or involve other people, I’d run in to difficulty. If I needed the toilet would I piss out the window?

Perec’s magnificent mind takes us out of this particular tangle and into another idea: dispersion.

Instead you have places scattered across town for your different functions. It’s not routine-specific. You’d need some energy, a good pair of legs, and to be driven by the desire to do things rather than the habit that comes from doing them out of routine or necessity.

Which would you prefer?

You might find it says a lot about you. Right now I’m in my Wednesday room. But I’d happily be hopping across town.