A History Of Glassblowing
By Matthew Sweeney
The records show that in Shanghai
at the end of the Yuan Dynasty,
the year 1364, a glassblower blew
a mermaid that came to life, and swam
away. And in Cologne, in 1531, a team
of glassblowers blew an orchestra,
instruments and all, and these played.
Then on Hokkaido, in 1846, a blind
monk blew his own Buddha to pray to,
and the next day he was able to see.
In Natchez, in 1901, a glassblower
blew a paddleboat with gamblers in it,
one of them lying dead. And in Oaxaca,
in 1929, a small version of the Sierra
Madre was blown, with golddiggers
on its lower slopes, and the whole
town filled with gold. In Letterkenny,
in 1965, a woman blew a flock
of glass sheep, wool and all, each
of them with a tinkly baa. In 1993,
in Séte, the harbour glassblower
blew a lighthouse with its own light,
and in 2004, in Timisoara, three
glassies blew a new solar system
that they let float up and away.
Monday felt like a Monday, even more so because my arm is still sore from my Shingrix shot and I felt rather blah, though better than Sunday night. I worked on holiday cards, laundry, photos, and a book review. We took a walk early, while it was still light, and saw woodpeckers though I guess it was too chilly for bunnies. The postponed Washington football game was awesome, since they beat the Steelers!
We went looking for The Poseidon Adventure, but Netflix only had the 2006 remake Poseidon, which is inferior in every way except special effects. The shipwreck looks great, but the religious allegory is gone -- all we get is a cross necklace on a dead body -- and the '70s women had much better characterization. Plus the plot aspects stolen from Armageddon don't improve anything. Glasswork from Art of Fire: