On Reading Material

[Tomorrow's toilet paper.]

In the past few months, my reading habits have changed significantly. It started last June when I wrote this email to Momus:

I was at a kiosk yesterday, looking through some favourite magazines and trying to decide whether to buy them, when I realised that I no longer get much utility out of paying for a magazine. That’s thanks to you to a large extent, because your daily writings at Click Opera are more enjoyable than practically anything I might have to pay for. So, in a fit of generosity, I pass on my magazine allowance to you. I still like magazines tremendously, so I think I might still decide to cough up the cash for something exceptional. It’s just that the time has come when the majority of my everyday textual, graphical, and photographical intake needs are sufficiently sated by free online content.

There have been quite a few print magazines that I have loved in the past: MacWorld in 1990, when I couldn’t get enough 1-bit 512×342 screen shots; the International Typeface Corporation’s U&lc magazine before it went digital-only and was distributed on flimsy newsprint; Wired in the mid nineties, pre-Condé Nast; Smart Girls before the novelty wore off. When I contributed to Momus’s PayPal account, the time was ripe for me to forego dead tree publications for my visual chewing gum habits in favour of the free, ever-changing world wide web.

Of course, since then my situation has changed dramatically. I moved to London (bringing only a couple of books with me) and I have a “proper” job, which in turn means that I commute and I often lunch out on my own — both acivities that scream out for some reading material on paper. So, I have on occasion relapsed by picking up Design Week and Icon. I am not counting free copies of the inane Metro newspaper, even though I find myself hankering after a nice fresh copy before I board the Northern Line train in the mornings. The futility of all this is revealed bare minutes after I have purchased these publications, when, having already leafed through their pages, I revert to feeling thoroughly unfulfilled.

To partially redress this situation, I have turned to books (I am currently going through Jared Diamond’s Collapse, which is only slightly less fascinating than his Why is Sex Fun?). I can only manage a few pages during my commute, but at least I can still genuinely justify buying a book. That is, until I discover the nearest library, or the digital realm takes over books as well.

Comments

behold, a comment-placeholder (like an image-placeholder)!! wahahaha.. i’m so clever.. (not!)

okok, for real now.. cuz the fu demands it:

hmm.. i’ve never been able to work out what to do on the tube.. when i used to commute to putney bridge, i’d just kinda sit there staring into space.. often looking at other people’s shoes.. i’m the type of commuter that makes people feel uncomfortable on their journey.. cuz i’d look at people’s faces to work out where they might’ve been over the weekend or however long it was they’d been away.. i remember during the summer months seeing guys with owl eyes, faces an orange-y brown (i dont get it.. why do they look orange and not golden when they tan??).. and checking out the new clothes some of them are wearing (cuz after a few months, you pretty much know the wardrobe of some of the frequent faces you see on the same train, same carriage).. but reading? i’ve never considered.. i guess i just like reading people instead.. :)