After a long hiatus of not wearing a watch at all, I recently took possession of my dream piece - an IWC Perpetual Calendar. Intricate, complicated, and ironically - unrepentantly analogue. But the mystery deepened. As I opened the box containing the watch I discovered a small glass vial, sealed by wax and containing a tiny, perfectly machined part. 'You, or should I say - your great great descendant will need this on January 1, 2200', said the brand manager in response to my puzzled expression - 'it is the replacement slide for when the calendar year moves into a new century'. That set me thinking. We always assume that digital is the logical evolution of analogue, but could it be a relationship more subtle?

First, a confession. I love analogue. I take pictures on an old film Leica, I write with a leaky fountain pen on a small Moleskine notebook and I aspire owning my favourite albums on vinyl and a real valve driven hi-fi. Part of the motivation for my retrograde lusts are aesthetic. I like the look of film grain, the feel of paper, and the warm sound of records. But there are also powerful emotions attached to the idea that things can still be crafted.

A real part of the appeal of ‘steam punk’, where the high tech is re-imagined as a mechanised baroque fantasy of cogs and flywheels - is that we regain the feeling that technology is not magic but the results of human engineering. Like the Eloi, as our hardware has advanced, we lost our knowledge of its workings. Modern electronics can no longer be fixed, merely discard and replaced. Worst of all - the lack of permanence in the things that surround us is mirrored in the constant stream of social media and status updates. In other words, momentum gets routinely mistaken for meaning.

I think that is why Neal Stephenson’s novel Anathem is so seductive. Imagine a world strictly divided between a technological and commercial saecular society and a group known as the Avout, intellectuals who live monastically in cloistered communities. The Avout are forbidden to communicate with people outside the walls of their monastry except during certain periods in which giant gates open - like clockwork - every year/decade/century/millenium, depending their vows. It is like a societal coping mechanism to prevent the loss of knowledge through progress.

You can easily lose perspective in the perpetual present. Think about your world. User generated content is already on the way out. Few create, most consume. Blogging is a dying art. Eventually, we won't even tweet. Our devices will simply automatically check us in, and signal silently to each other - until we ourselves resemble human sized packets in a distributed network.

I doubt that my little glass vial will survive into the hands of a great, great grandchild, but in a way that’s not really the point. Its just nice to be reminded that while the chaotic universe might not operate like Isacc Newton’s perfect celestial clock - through our devices and desires, we still have the capacity to create small moments of perpetuity.

You don't want to know what I paid for my iPad. Call it waiting list frustration, irrational fanboy exuberance or just plain stupidity - but it got the point when I convinced myself that no self respecting futurist should be without a MessiahPad. Now that I've had a few months to contemplate the depths of my Apple avarice, let me offer a few thoughts on what Steve's new toy might mean for news, books, authors and publishing at large.

Firstly, a confession. I've fallen in love with newspapers again. The digital revolution was not kind to the world of print. After tearing its money making heart out (classifieds, subscription revenues and finally, display advertising), it disaggregated whatever content was left, and placed it at the mercy of a search algorithm. But fire up the Financial Times or the New York Times apps on the iPad, and there is no doubt that the newspaper is back - in aesthetics, if not quite yet in financial vigour.

Still, these are early days and upon closer inspection it is clear that tablet applications reflect imaginations trapped by metaphor. The FT app looks beautiful, but just try selecting text, sharing articles on social media or performing the digital equivalent of tearing out a page to keep. My workaround is saving screenshots, but that is far from an elegant solution. On the flip side, RSS readers like Pulse and Reeder excel at making my thousands of feed subscriptions intelligible and infinitely share-able. But lets face it, RSS is still the lingua franca of geekdom not the newsprint reading masses.

As for books, I'm also a tablet convert and as much as I hate to say it - Amazon's Kindle is far better in emulation. Last year's personal zeitgeist moment was when I decided to move seventeen packing boxes of books out of my house into storage. Yes the smell and touch of books is wonderful, but the weight of them in my travel bag is not. I thought that was the end of it, but this year I've added my Kindle to my paperback mass grave. As it turns out, all the things that made Kindle great, are even greater on iPad - highlighting, high speed scanning of books and the presentation of your library.

Well, almost everything. Seriously Jeff, where the hell is the search button? Does its presence violate some antiquated book licensing agreement? And why can't I select text in a book and share it on my blog? In fact, why can't I share what I'm reading with the people in my social network? Apple's iBook store is not much better. OK, so Apple has scripted some neat animations of page turns and books sliding onto virtual shelves - but is this any different from the early e-commerce websites in the nineties that had corny animations of shopping carts and supermarket aisles? Be not deceived!

You see, the real reason why the iPad is not the future of publishing is that re-inventing the art of reading has nothing to do with technology. To make real progress, we need escape velocity from the limitations of the metaphors that bind us. You can have the world's most innovative device, but unless we rethink our business and content models - we are doomed to merely port our limitations onto new, shinier screens. Everyone was amazed at the Alice in Wonderland ebook - and for good reason. It was more than just a book on a tablet - it was an entirely new form of content that tapped into the inherent strengths of a new medium. But how many other brilliantly interactive publications have you seen like that since the launch of the iPad? Almost none. Even the second issue of Wired was a let down.

All of this poses publishers with an interesting conundrum. Making books, marketing books and distributing books has, for as long as there have been printing presses, been a tough job. That's why us authors largely don't self publish. But if publishing in the future means selling and marketing an application in the App Store, how well are today's publishers placed to achieve that task? And if others are better suited to that job, how will the new economics of royalties and commission splits reflect the reality of tomorrow's reading market?

As I write my next book, all of these thoughts are bouncing around on the trampoline of my mind. In a way, my first book Futuretainment was an analogue work designed for tablet world. Not a Kindle mind you, but certainly a device capable of giving life to the interplay of images, words and motion. We are in the midst of a publishing shift that should excite content creators with its potential. In some ways, creating a book in the future will be closer to producing a movie or a video game. You will need a team handling visual production, application development, mobile distribution, and social awareness. The simple days of a writer, an editor and a royalty contract are almost at an end.

But some things will also stay the same. The book, as a conceptual archetype will persist, as did the music album even in an age of digital singularity. Books are more than just analogue containers of related paragraphs - they represent a totality that collectively stands for something more. In a way, without them, we would have nothing to blog about.

A weekend in LA is a panacea for most ills, and a perpetrator of many more. It's also a great vantage point to consider the thorny question - what next for Hollywood? Earlier this millennium the humble DVD saved the Studios from a fate worse than box office. However as consumers shift to new forms of digital consumption - that is no longer the case. Many remain divided on whether the Web represents the future or end of entertainment as we know it. In truth, the answer may be both.

A few weeks ago, the Economist had a fascinating piece on the changing business of show business. In short, box office is back. In 2009, global theatre revenues increased by 7.6%, even though total revenue for the biggest Hollywood studios fell by 4.3%. The longer term trend is even more encouraging. Since 2005, US box office receipts have risen by 20%, while global revenues rose 35%. Better multiplexes, digital projection and the advent of 3D are all drivers of the rebirth of cinema. The bad news is that the DVD and its slow cousin BluRay, are looking increasingly perilous - falling 17% in 2009. And in some broadband piracy ridden markets like China and Korea, the DVD market is entirely dead.

So, should we pin our hopes on 3D? I hope not. I'm already bored of gratuitous depth effects on otherwise dull, blue-skinned fare. Look closely. There is a bigger dynamic at play. Hollywood itself is a metonym for a complex web of suppliers, production houses, guild members, retail distributors, agents and talent. And despite the rebound in ticket sales - as consumers move digital, it will increasingly be an ecosystem in crisis. But Tinsel Town has a few more tricks up its sleeve.

Forget distribution for a moment and consider Hollywood's real value. In my view, Hollywood is a machine for the creation and commercialisation of celebrity. It is unmatched in its capacity to accelerate the visibility of talent brands onto a world stage. That is important, because there is a symbiotic relationship between content, talent and gossip that fuels entertainment markets - whether it be box office, merchandise or commercial endorsements.

And in a social media obsessed world, achieving cut-through is more valuable than ever. On Facebook, everyone thinks they are famous - even when they are not. Not even nearly. But it is enough to create a lot of noise, and for both brands and content creators alike, the scarce resource today is attention. We simply have too many options for entertainment and too few filters to make informed choices with. At its most simple level, true fame is a form of attention aggregation. In the broadcast age, it was enough to get millions to watch a piece of content at the same time - hence the power of the Superbowl ad. In the audience network age, simultaneity is not as important as collective awareness. Consumer data is the prize. Matching the right brand stories with the right buyer segments will be the future of marketing, not billboards or generic TV advertisements. Forget selling tickets, merchandise, popcorn or DVD box sets - cashing in on audience insights will be Hollywood's main act in the future.

To understand why that is the case, you need to rethink the relationship between brands and content. While in LA, I caught up with Gunther Sonnenfeld, a digital strategist in the emerging field of transmedia. Gunther, who had spoken with me at the Gulltaggen conference in Oslo last month, explained his idea that media products should exist seamlessly across multiple platforms, using the strengths of each rather simply porting broadcast content mindlessly to mobile and the Web. At the heart of his theory is the power of storytelling. Stories, for Gunther, represent the creation and re-organisation of information through experiences we can relate to and interact with. And there is no reason that shouldn't be a commercially profitable experience for brands as well.

Strangely in China, that's a process that is already starting to happen due to savvy web audiences and a culture of grassroot celebrity. Many of the most famous entertainment personalities in China are not produced by a studio system but are 'netstars', discovered after they bubble out of the mass of online Chinese networks - famous for a homemade song, a viral blog post or some other social oddity. Brand managers scour the Chinese web looking for emerging celebrity, script ideas, and digital memes to exploit. And so, when campaigns for major brands launch, they are often just an extension of an existing community generated seed.

That is starting to happen in the West as well. Consider the significance of the moment when the funny and very human Twitter account ShitMyDaySays got a CBS deal and the creators of 'Will & Grace' stepped in to executive produce the concept into a comedy series.

Early days, yes, But eventually Hollywood will co-opt the web fully - as both a platform for distribution of content and more importantly, as an networked amplifier for celebrity. Today's internet star will be tomorrow's superstar. But don't get too excited just yet. You might have half a million people following you on Twitter, but no one has explained that to the gorilla with the door list, the attitude and the half mile of velvet rope.

What do you think? I value your feedback. Please comment by clicking here.

How long will Japan continue to drive technological innovation? For years I have made my pilgrimage here to see the next generation of the cool, the shiny and the super-advanced. Lately, I'm no longer sure. Hanging out in Tokyo is always a strangely mesmerising experience. Like some alien artifact, the city itself is both impossibly futuristic and yet beguiling in its retro contradictions. Beneath tomorrow's gleaming skyscrapers glide yesterday's Toyota Crown taxis, with their 'SuperDeluxe' badging and white lace seat covers. It is a striking contrast. Amid the neon billboards and blinking red lights of rooftops, the freakish and the familiar blend with equal aplomb.

In a small outdoor cafe in Shibuya, I caught up with Dr Serkan Toto - who is Techcrunch's Tokyo based correspondent on all things Japanese, mobile and gadget wonderful. We had a terrific discussion about the local market, and a few things resonated with me. Firstly, mobile. With its tiny advanced phones, QR codes, e-wallets and content ecosystem - Japan has led the mobile world for the last decade. That's starting to change. The iPhone, which borrows so much from Japan in its design and execution has, after a slow start, managed to now take nearly 5% of the local market with an estimated 3 million phones.

Now that they have it, I'm certain the Japanese will do interesting things with the Apple platform. They have a tendency to see things in a different way. Take for example, the Tokyo N building, covered in QR codes that lets you see people tweeting floor by floor as an augmented reality application. Another interesting augmented reality application is Sekai Camera, fast growing popular with local Japanese users. The application now features a cool gaming hook which allow people to remotely virtual assault devices that attack unsuspecting users in geo-tagged locations.

That said, I'm not sure how much disruptive innovation will continue to come from Japan in the mobile space. Following Samsung's decision to create the Bada platform, NTT Docomo have also announced their own attempt to compete with Apple and Android. If this was 1989 and we were talking about PC operating systems, they might stand a chance. But there is a new innovation dynamic at play in the mobile space, and my gut instinct is that it will be at the bottom of the pyramid.

I'm writing the sequel to Futuretainment, and my new focus is technological innovation in the BRIC countries. I've come to believe that constraint is the mother of invention - especially when applied to the magic of large numbers (big domestic population, fast growing middle classes, rising literacy levels, growing export markets, falling technology prices). Immediately prior to my trip to Tokyo, I spent a month in Brazil and Latin America. There is a real contrast between the kind of grassroots technological innovation you are seeing in the BRIC countries and the brilliant, but closed loop ingenuity that has traditionally come out of Japan.

That's not to say that Japan will not play a key role in technology in the next decade. One area in which they will continue to excel is robotics. It's hard to articulate just how much the Japanese love robots. Yesterday I was walking around Akihabara, Tokyo's electronics district. I marveled at small robot shops that sell highly advanced toy robots that cost thousands but will let you compete in martial arts and soccer games. At the new Gundam robot cafe, the line snaked around the block. And not surprisingly, they are also morally ambiguous on cybernetic pop culture characters like Darth Vader, who currently features in a bizarre viral campaign from NTT Docomo. Japan is the one country in the world where they plan to solve their aging population crisis through robot helpers and companions.

Serkan had an interesting observation on this point. The Japanese religion Shinto is based on a principle of Animism - all things have a spirit. Like a Kabbalistic Golem, to create a robot is to literally breathe life into a piece of technology. Not so in the West. For like Tony Stark in Iron Man, we have a different vision. We dream of turning ourselves into machines.

I was hesitant to write this post. After all, the last thing the world needs right now is yet another burnt offering to the Jesus Tablet by an Apple fanboy. But in all the praise, whining, worship and ennui that characterised last week's coverage of the iPad's launch - something was missing. In my view, the difference between whether the iPad becomes a genre changing device, or just a tech geek curio like the Apple TV or the Mac Book Air has little to do with hardware or design, and everything to do with how users end up doing with it. And that, quite frankly, is still very much a mystery. So selfishly, I'd like to propose five ways that Steve's new toy might change my life - or at the very least, improve my day.

1. Reducing the Infovore Chore

If you are reading this, you may well be an information addict. Information addicts, or 'infovores' as I like to call them - are curious creatures. Similar, actually to the largest members of the class Oligochaeta - or specifically, earthworms. Unlike most people I know, earthworms actually improve their environment through consumption. Dead leaves in one end, rich fertile soil out the other. Consuming content is like that too. Infovores spend most of their day reading, tagging, classifying, twittering, posting, blogging and sharing. They take isolated bits of content and through their act of processing it create metadata, structure and discoverability. Spending your days doing that kind of task is not only thankless, but hunched over a laptop - somewhat uncomfortable. And so the first thing I thought when I watched Jobs ease back in his armchair during his keynote, was the significance of posture. The ideal position for actively consuming content is not a lean forward to screen (PC) or a lean back at a screen (TV) but a lean back with a screen (Tablet). And preferably in an original Eames recliner.

2. The Third Screen

Anyone who has experienced the joy of using two screens simultaneously can never go back to a solitary display existence. With multiple displays you can have your work on one screen and Facebook distractions on the other, you can open lots of windows at once and scatter them carelessly around your workplace like clothes in a teenager's bedroom. And for some creative tasks, like editing photos and videos - it is almost impossible to do them without visual duality. In my view, the iPad represents the opportunity to add a third screen to the mix. The extra real estate, while nice, is not the point. Suddenly a contract arrives that needs your signature. Imagine being able to drag a document off your monitor and straight onto your pad, you sign it and then drag it onto a contact in your address book. It is emailed directly. A screen connected iPad would allow you to interact with content in a more visceral way - just like a graphics tablet for designers.

3. A Social Remote

I was at a party recently when I realised that the most useful thing on my iPhone was an application i barely used. Conversation at dinner had flagged, and the evening was fast accelerating into polite banality. Fortunately my iPhone was already paired to the host's wireless network, and with a few clicks I was able to access his iTunes music collection - select a new song, use Apple Genius to automatically complete the playlist and then turn up the volume to a boredom banishing decibel level. Party fixed. The iPad should be able to take this one step further. You should be able to use it like a social remote. Leave an iPad on your coffee table and people can pick it up and select upcoming songs like in a Karoke bar, or access their cloud based music collections from home, or simply program some videos and images to appear on the panel display in the living room. If nothing else, it will bring new meaning to the concept of fighting over the remote.

4. The Prestige

In one of my favourite films about magic, Michael Caine's character explains that it's not enough just to trick people, you need to disorient their very sense of reality. And that's why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part he calls "The Prestige". When you give speeches for a living, 'The Prestige' is something you also think about. How do you wow people using technology in a way that's not a gimmick but upends their sensory awareness? Using your iPhone to change Keynote slides is not cool. Using your iPad to interact in real time with data, shapes, images and simulations could be. Presentation slides are static things. I'd love to be able to use a tablet to bring life to my visual back drops.

5. Show and Tell 

In a similar but more intimate vein, a tablet computer is the perfect tool for impromptu pitch sessions. If you are photographer with a portfolio, a scientist with a 3D simulation of a DNA strand, an architect with a blueprint, a producer with a film idea or even a entrepreneur with a business model - being able to walk into a room with a flat screen that allows for dynamic interaction and play - is far more involving than a standard presentation on a laptop. As the Hollywood scriptwriters say - show don't tell. Elevators rides will never be the same again.

Well, that's my wishlist. Let's see by the end of the year whether those little application developer elves bring me a little Tablet inspired happiness or I just end up on Santa's naughty list again. Anyway, enough about me. What do you want the iPad to do?
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