I find it odd that if I were to go into Waterstone’s, I would have to pay £12.99 for a copy of The Corner, by David Simon & Ed Burns.
Whereas if I go online to their website I can pay £7.79, and get it delivered for free to the exact same store (or my home address).
But then I have to wait for them to deliver a copy to the store. The same store which I was in earlier, and and where they had half a dozen copies in stock.
PC World have a slightly different take on the process. You essentially pay the web price online, then collect the item from the store an hour later – just enough time for them to forget to pick it off the shelves, so you have to get it yourself, saving a fair whack of change in the process.
So why can’t Waterstone’s do the same thing? Surely it would save on costs getting extra copies of already-in-stock books delivered, and make the customer (me! hi!) happier.
Just a thought.
First off, the Star Wars ABC, which is oddly beautiful:
Then a fantastic post by a fellow pen addict:
which is so me, it’s scary. Must go and buy some more pens. My favourite line was this:
if you’re going to have an argument about pens with anyone, chances are there’s a Moleskine nearby.
Jake Shimabukuro doing a fantastic version of George Harrison’s ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’.
Magnetic Movie from Semiconductor on Vimeo.
The secret lives of invisible magnetic fields are revealed as chaotic ever-changing geometries . All action takes place around NASA’s Space Sciences Laboratories, UC Berkeley, to recordings of space scientists describing their discoveries . Actual VLF audio recordings control the evolution of the fields as they delve into our inaudible surroundings, revealing recurrent ‘whistlers’ produced by fleeting electrons . Are we observing a series of scientific experiments, the universe in flux, or a documentary of a fictional world?
More info here http://www.semiconductorfilms.com/root/Magnetic_Movie/Magnetic.htm
An Animate Projects commission for Channel 4 in association with Arts Council England.
Poet Rives does 8 minutes of lyrical origami, folding history into a series of coincidences surrounding that most surreal of hours, 4 o’clock in the morning.