There’s a deep and abiding chasm, I think, between materialism and consumerism. It has to do with the how and the why. And also, with shame. I have a fierce attachment to my things, and I’m frequently consumed by a desire for more things. I have walked into shops and trembled. I consider myself a materialist. I am also a consumer, vulnerable to marketing tactics, but when I give in to them, I feel embarrassed. There are certain objects that mean a lot to me, but probably wouldn’t mean much to anyone else. These objects are reifications of my experience, evidence that I exist: how would I or anyone know that I went to the bazaar, figuratively speaking, if I didn’t bring back the miniature tin kettle and cup and saucer, figuratively speaking, to prove it?
I like knowing that Walter Benjamin collected so many books, but didn’t read many of them. The collecting is greater than the book.
After an initial rejection by Apple due to its inclusion of ‘Ways Tom Jones Would Dance With Your Mother,’ the ebook reader Eucalyptus is available to all people/assholes with an iPhone or iPod touch.
The interface is nice, the size of the text is scalable, and it gives you easy access to the 20,000+ book large Project Gutenberg. It’s not like it’ll make me any less thirsty for Tao Lin on a Kindle, but it’s fun to browse through so many nice books written by so many nice dead people.
If you have iTunes, you can check it out here.