The only real choice is to be pleased right now.

My Disney weekend plans got cancelled, about as cancelled as they could possibly be without at least a local apocalypse. As in, if any of the reasons for the cancellation were fixed, it would still be cancelled unless three other reasons were also fixed. I am a bit disappointed, but I have plenty to do in town. I have an art show to go to and maybe be in tonight, a paper due at midnight, and open studios in one week.

I found in my browser tabs a video of glassblowing that I was saving, and I watched it. And it seems like nothing could be as perfect and immediate and zen as glassblowing. And I need to at least take a glassblowing class but preferably become a glass blower. It's such a siren call. I have worked with glass before and loved it, but that was dry cold glass. I want to blow an hourglass; a whole series of hourglasses whose titles are the exact time they take to run.

OurGlass of Cockington from Danny Cooke on Vimeo.

So I took a step back. All I have to do today, and indeed this weekend, is make art, talk about art, look at art, read about art, and write about art. Also I am going to the beach. In my entire adolescence I would have died of happiness to have the weekend I am about to have, and here it is, waiting for me, and all I can do is think about trying new things that I don't have the studio for. So, I am going to get my art out of my car, leave it with my artist statement where my roommate can find it, dress for the beach, have a short swim, buy an hourglass, and get started on my paper, then go to Fiery Femmes of February.