SNYDERMANIA: A KNOCK ON THE HEAD, A FLAT TIRE, A SWARM OF BEES, A FACEFUL OF SPIDERS, A BOOK READING, A STACK OF PAPERS, AND A CD FOR SALE

Sunday, September 21, 2014

A KNOCK ON THE HEAD, A FLAT TIRE, A SWARM OF BEES, A FACEFUL OF SPIDERS, A BOOK READING, A STACK OF PAPERS, AND A CD FOR SALE

My life as a bug man/writer/teacher has been quite pretty hectic as of late.

The extermination biz was exceptionally busy this week. I had a flat tire, got chased by a swarm of bees, walked into a tree, and a nest of spiders fell onto my face. It would make for a better story if these events happened in a row. Looking back the spider incident was the most disturbing. I was too hot, tired, and irritated when the spiders landed on my face to be properly freaked out. I walked back to my truck and squirted my face with pesticides for about 30 seconds. Okay, I didn't squirt myself in the face.

Professor Halberg invited me to her English 101 class for a reading Saturday morning. As usual it was an uplifting experience. Kinda made up for the faceful of spiders.

I pretty much spent the rest of the weekend grading and prepping for my English classes. Grading papers and pulling brushing spiders off of my face is an unusual juxtaposition.

Life as a bug man/writer/teacher is always interesting. I just thought of something, I may be the only bug man/teacher/writer in Arizona, maybe the world.

Hey, STORIES FROM THE SPIRIT GUIDE BAR is now available for download on iTunes

iTunes STORIES FROM THE SPIRIT GUIDE BAR

and you buy the CDs from CD Baby.

CD Baby STORIES FROM THE SPIRIT GUIDE BAR

2 comments:

Midlife Roadtripper said...: Always a pleasure, Mr. Snyder. Interesting week myself. Let me just say it ended with a broken little toe. Apt.

I suppose I'll have to buy this book of yours also.; September 21, 2014 at 9:53 PM
#167 Dad said...: Broken toe?; September 27, 2014 at 6:10 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?