SNYDERMANIA: RICK MORANIS AND AN EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON FLASHREAD EXCUSE

Sunday, August 12, 2012

RICK MORANIS AND AN EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON FLASHREAD EXCUSE

Thanks to my pal Joel Fricke for his California dreamin' photo of The Eight-Fingered Criminal's Son on the beach.

No flashread this week. Teaching has been hard. Not terrible, just hard. Did I mention that I have a junior English class with 47 students? It's really hot too. It's 113 degrees today. This is because I live in the desert.

There will be another flashread at Papa Joe's Barbershop in Chandler next Saturday at noon. Dickie "Tom Jones" Imburgia will be part of thing. Austin Imburgia and Steven Bogamill, two of my all time greatest former students, will handle the cameras. Should be pretty good. By the way, I'm relatively sure I misspelled Steven's last name. Sorry, Steve.

I'm in the process of punching up my novel The Spirit Guide Bar. The book will be released in 2013.

If you're in the greater Los Angeles area, it would be great to see you at the Eight-Fingered Criminal's Son Cheese Whiz Event at the Book Frog in Rolling Hills. The event will go down at 2 pm on October 6th. Dickie Tom Jones Imburgia and Rick Moranis have been invited. Passages will be read, books will signed and beer and cheese whiz will be had by all.

You can order a copy of The Eight-Fingered Criminal's Son by clicking on the link below.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Eight-Fingered-Criminals-William-Snyder/dp/1468142585/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334182364&sr=8-1-fkmr0

1 comment:

Rick Rivers said...: 47 students!!?? Now, that's "criminal", all those danged essays to read and correct.; August 20, 2012 at 10:11 AM

NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?