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 iPad slips from hype topspot The irony is delicious: the latest most sophisticated information system being explained in Chinese whispers. And of course, the story ends in wildly differing versions, from fan- to craptastic. The only consensus was the high snigger factor of the name — altho’ after the 7th iTampon tweet, the joke was pretty much milked dry. As one of the many who cannot afford an iPhone, iBook, iTouch or iPad, it seems ridiculous that so much energy is spent in discussing a new gadget. It’s not jealousy on my part, understand; owning an iPad belongs in that post-lottery-win fantasy, where I’m floating on my white leather chaise longue in an infinity pool in St Barts (hey, it’s MY fantasy). Apple has succeeded in generating so much hype about its products that it barely needs to do any promotion itself — we do it ourselves. Nice one, Steve. And why do we get so excited by a new toy? Because of the need to be “in” with the in-crowd (baaa-aaa), to look down on the have-nots (p-tooo). It reminds me of a quote about photographers:
It is the amateur’s doomed belief that if he just had the latest product, regularly, he would be able to rank as a pro. The point is that having a better camera is no substitute for practice and talent. Doisneau or Capa wouldn’t have taken better pictures with this year’s latest camera. Instead of placing our faith externally in an object, we should spend more time investing on the internal. (… but if I do win the lottery, then I’ll be wearing this Leica necklace in my fantasy …) Back to work on Monday after an exhausting IKEA weekend: long trip to the mainland on Saturday, then six hours shuffling round the blue and yellow megabox, sustained only by Swedish meatballs and a family-size bag of Daims; Sunday busy with the allen keys, baffled by pictogram instructions simplified for our 23-language community. What did we buy? Well, after Mr B decided that we’d made too many hasty decisions (during our six-hour visit), you can already find half of the stuff on marktplaats.nl, the local, most popular equivalent of eBay. Mr B is right, of course; IKEA specializes in the borderline of the acceptable; the grey zone of style where no one feels exactly at home but is at a loss for anything better, or affordable. As part of my extensive research for this post, I came across this song by The Used. As far as poignant adolescent longing goes, it’s … apparently much appreciated by fans who bicker about whether the lyrics refer to romance, friendship or dope. Of course, it’s none of those things. Check out the lyrics from the chorus:
The references are so obviously IKEAN: the tension between the desire for Scandinavian design (kräap) and the fear of having “an IKEA house”; the way your hands feel after screwing together several flatpacks of mdf with a 4mm allen key; … and the realization that time could have been better spent with the ones you love. Life’s too short to visit IKEA. It’s heading for 1 am. About to shut down for the night, I carelessly copied over the whole folder of my current editing job in progress onto my USB stick, thinking that I’d be super efficient by having access to the files during the day tomorrow. Two seconds later I realized to my horror that I had already been super efficient by working on the document directly on my stick. By copying over the original version of the file, I deleted all of this evening’s work. I don’t know whether to cry or give myself a slap for being so stuuuupid! The TV was on late this evening, muted and ignored, until I noticed a series of clips showing motorbikes, cars and trucks trying to drive at high speed up sand dunes before getting stuck halfway up or on the crest. The bikes’ wheels spun sand jets vertically, while the trucks slid and rolled like beached whales. What was going on? It’s been so long since I’d seen anyone bother to show images of the Paris-Dakar Rally on TV that I’d forgotten about its absurd existence. I mean, what’s the skill in trying to drive across the desert at top speed. You just go in a straight line and try not to hit anything, which is pretty easy in the desert, ‘cos there’s little there to hit. An exercise in futility, to my mind. Others consider it the greatest test of endurance in the world, whereas opponents such as the Collectif Actions pour les Victimes Anonymes du Dakar (CAVAD), hope to end what they see as a dangerous and arrogant act of wealthy northerners and their corporate sponsors breaking all the rules of safety far away from their own countries. With the 56th victim of the rally occuring this week, it would appear that hitting people in the most remote wildernesses is easier than I’d thought. When we lived in Dakar last year, the rally had been cancelled because of the threat of armed attack in Mauritania (a number of tourists had been killed). So we never got to see the expats thronging at Lac Rose to greet the arrival of the rally. I don’t think most Dakarois cared less about it. When I saw the extensive coverage of the rally this evening, I was shocked to realize that Le Dakar had changed route. I knew this kind of bending the borders was popular for boosting interest and gaining sponsors, as when the Tour de France bizarrely includes England or the Netherlands. But still … the Paris-Dakar is now a round trip from Buenos Aires and back, crossing South America and looping in Chile. Apparently this is the second year they’ve done it in South America. (That’s why I’m a bit slow on the uptake.) Is it just me or is this weird? Like … [complete with witty example] |
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