I’ve got rid of a couple old friends this week. My subscriptions to Lovefilm and eMusic.
It had got to the stage where I was just opening the Lovefilm stuff and sending straight back. I seem to have exhausted the 'to watch' list and am just going through the motions. I'm currently enjoying watching whole seasons of great american tv shows but Lovefilm seem to struggle to get me what I want when I want it (and in the right order), so alternative sources have been sought.
eMusic was my music download subsription service of choice, but likewise I've been struggling to find forty tracks a month that I want to download. This means I have several albums from artists I have never heard of sitting unheard on my Hoover. Back to the CD racks I think.
I decided this month I was going to read some new magazines to broaden my horizons. Make me more culturally aware. And stylish too.
I already have a subscription to The Word Magazine, so I don’t need to bother with Q or Mojo. I can’t get hold of a copy of the New Yorker, which people on AC’s NKU blog seem to rave about, and I’m not going to subscribe to a magazine I’ve never read. I don’t like the idea of GQ, the title puts me off. So I selected Vanity Fair and Arena...
With The Word Magazine I never sit down and read it cover to cover. I’ll pick it up leaf through it. Stop at something that interests me, read it move on or put it down. I'll then pick it up again later and do the same thing. By the time the new issue arrives the last one is falling to pieces, with little or nothing unread. I decided to adopt this approach with Vanity Fair, so I picked it up (it’s a weighty old beast) and began some serious leafage. By about thirty pages in I had read about John Travolta (being a pilot and trying to sell me a watch) Brad Pitt (trying to sell me a watch) Nicole Kidman (trying to sell me a watch AND some perfume). By the time I had leafed through to the end I had done so without finding anything I wanted to read. I became a little frustrated and decided that I, like Travolta, was a pilot and sent my copy of VF flying across the room.
Arena’s no better. I don't want my studying of movies, music, books and lifestyle encumbered by features on women wearing lingerie. I don’t care about sex-drugs or the entrepreneurs of Bristol or Brighton and I wouldn't be seen dead in their proposed summer clothes.
They also have the same crappy movie star ads. I’m not going to buy anything advertised by Travolta or Pitt (I might consider goods advertised by Ed Norton or John Cusack if any of the 3 or 4 readers of this blog work in Market Research – but you need to bear in mind that I’m never going to buy either of these magazines again).
There's an article on Forest Whitaker I could read, but then the apathy sets in and Arena is airborne...