Image from the Sheila Metzner exhibit at the Getty which I am so sad to have missed.
I’m nauseous from drinking too much coffee and sitting in the sun. In my quest for “healing” I had reiki done this week with a guy named Ivan who also taped magnets to my feet. (Biomagnetism?) I felt significantly better afterwards so I guess it worked.
Suddenly spring is in the air. I left the windows open last night. Yesterday I saw a redbud tree in bloom. I’m glad that winter, in Texas at least, is over. I hate the cold. Yesterday, my dad repeated one of his favorite stories about the screenwriter Bud Shrake, who was Ann Richards boyfriend for many years. In two different movies Bud wrote, he included the same line: “a man’s gotta kill his own snakes.” Which made an impression on my father. A few years go by, and my dad sees Bud at a party and says to him, “Hey Bud, l I noticed that you’ve got that line, “a man’s gotta kill his own snakes” in two of your movies, why?”
And Bud just looked at him and said, “because a man’s gotta kill his own snakes.”
That’s the whole story.
Anyways.
I love this song.
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you gotta kill your own snakes!