Naked Poetry; or Ginger, the Hollywood Screenwriter, circa 1930s

I wrote five new poems tonight! Two while cleaning house, one in the bathtub, one on the bed naked (after the bath, before I could dress), and the fifth one, again on the bed, but in my favorite black satin nightgown -- the one that laces up like a corset! And my hair in a cute ponytail.

Out of the five, only one contains a single reference to the Dead End Kids -- Billy Halop: again inspired by my love/lust.

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In an alcohol-free good mood tonight!

Due to some breaks, and improvements:

We missed the snowstorm.
The kid's not running fever.
She's feeling better.
She went to school today!

I got some housework done.

I exercised tonight! -- for the first time in forever.

I used to always dance for an hour every night -- back when I was thin, and fit, and kind of pretty -- and here lately, I've been 'drinking' before my baths. Not a good way to return to being 'thin, and fit, and kind of pretty.' Plus, the dancing makes me happy -- improving my mood, like alcohol does, but without slowing my creative mind...like alcohol does. ;)

And as mentioned, in the frame of two hours, I wrote five poems!

-- I feel alive tonight!!

And cute tonight.

Plus, I got something in the mail today.

No, not my eBay 'prize' -- I won it, didn't I? ;)

My Netflix! And I was so excited; I thought I might watch it tonight, before coming in here to my office, but then I couldn't decide the best way to watch (serve?) DUCK SOUP: as a 'date with myself, in bed' kind of movie, or a 'watch it in the morning, for breakfast' kind of movie?

Ha. DUCK SOUP in bed, or DUCK SOUP for breakfast??

The Duck Soup Inn -- Bed and Breakfast for Honeymooners who love the Marx Brothers!
Proprietor: Ginger Ingenue

I should go into business! Or get a time machine, and become a Hollywood Screenwriter, circa 1930s. I'd want to work for Warner Brothers! And just sit around the lot all day; running errands for old man Jack; doing chores here and there; taking naps on the casting couch, and waking up long enough to watch dailies; rummaging through wardrobe, to borrow dresses and costumes used in the sexier numbers from the Busby Berkeley musicals.

"Hey, Huntz Hall! Want to come open me up?"

-- I'm wearing Ruby Keeler's metal suit from 'Pettin' in the Park'; GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933.

And Huntz will call, "I've got your can-opener right here!"

We'll slip off to one of the fake beds in the back of the prop department.

Oh, life on the Warner's lot would be Heaven!

Of course, Old Man Jack would eventually want some work out of me.

I'd hammer out a Mark Twain adaptation:

HUCK FINN
(1938)
B&W
Comedy and/or Drama

Warners could do it up big, like THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD, but with kids -- not THE Dead End Kids; as much as I love 'em, Mark Twain's masterpiece is no place for all of them...

Only my favorite. :)

In the vein of his 'Douglas Fairbanks Rosenbloom' character from A SLIGHT CASE OF MURDER -- the hoodlum with the halo -- Bobby Jordan would make a perfect little Huck!

And as for Tom Sawyer, how about Frankie Thomas??

-- Ha. How 'bout Frankie Burke?! ;)

Old Man Jack likes the script, and gives me a raise, which I blow on new nightgowns to wear, and new notebooks to fill.

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What year is this again? ;)

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UPDATE: I just went and looked at my Netflix disc, and guess what -- it ain't even DUCK SOUP!

This is the second time lately Netflix has sent me the wrong movie.

Though the one they did send me contains Huntz Hall...

Hmm.

Black Satin Nightgown, would you like to go watch a movie in bed after all??

[Nightgown rustling]

Allow me to translate:

In Nightgown Language, this means 'Yes'. ;)

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Kisses! Dana Andrews and Linda Darnell; FALLEN ANGEL (1945)

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Meet the Dead End Kids -- or, "Yep, Fellas, it all comes from loining."

I noticed over in my sidebar, the Dead End Kids -- Who's your Favorite? poll is almost over. Only three days left, and only twenty or so people have voted.

I've voted three times, really. The first time, I voted for my own personal favorite. The second time, I used my cellphone to cast a vicarious vote for my five-year-old daughter: she loves Huntz Hall! Then the third time, I voted for a friend of mine; he likes Billy Halop because he kinda looks like Billy Halop; he saw him in part of ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES; and he hates, Hates -- HATES -- with a capital H! Leo Gorcey.

And at one point, Gorcey was in the lead (of the poll), so I told my friend, "You better go and vote, or Gorcey's gonna win it."

He avoids my blog, so I did the voting for him, but he saw me...

I think it was the same night I finally coaxed him into watching KID DYNAMITE.

Upon its ending, I asked him what he thought of it.

He said, "I hate the guy in the hat! I hope he dies..."

I told him, "That's Leo Gorcey," and assured him Gorcey's long been dead.

My friend said, Well, not only is he glad Gorcey's dead, but he wants to piss on Gorcey's grave; and not only does he want to piss on his grave, he wants to dig up Gorcey's bones, piss on them, and then re-bury 'em. And THEN piss on his grave.

-- Ha. I don't understand it. I love Leo Gorcey!

Hell, I love all the Kids...

My point tonight, is: there are ninety-something people following this blog now, and only twenty-one people have voted in the Favorite DEK poll.

Go vote, damn it! ;)

I honestly, sincerely -- with all my sweet, Southern heart -- want to know who your favorite Kid is.

-- And if you vote, I'll bake you an Apple pie! Best Apple Pie you've ever tasted...

And like I said, the winning vote, at the moment, is thirty-three percent for 'I've never really seen them...'.

So if you've never really seen them, click on this:



It's a five minute (plus) clip from the DEK's film debut, DEAD END.

My favorite Kid is long-haired Bobby Jordan -- the shoeshiner -- 'lamenting' his abusive, alcoholic father.

"So I grabs a kitchen knife, THAT BIG, and I says, 'Touch me you rat, and I give you this!'"

-- I did that once, too, but mine was a 'step' father, and pair of sewing shears. Ha. Perhaps that's why I love 'Angel' best.

Billy Halop's the luscious-haired, gorgeous one, who's half-naked at the start of the clip -- leaning forward:

"Yep, fellas, it all comes from loining."

Then later, he's the one donning overalls; throwing knives with Humphrey Bogart.

Huntz Hall is the one who wants five cards in poker.

Leo Gorcey's the punk in the felt hat, smoking, and making cat-calls at blondie.

Gabe Dell is dirty-faced T.B. -- "Just keep it in mind."

And Bernard Punsly's the slightly-chubby one, who doesn't know the meaning of 'da mark of tha squealer'.

Now you know them. ;)

Or if nothing else, you've seen 'em before, and forgot, and this refreshed your memory! (How convenient.)

I'd just hate for 'I've never really seen them...' to be the winning vote. Better than 'I don't like the Dead End Kids,' though!

-- As if it matters, in the grand scheme...

I'm just in a good/silly mood tonight because we avoided a major snowstorm today!

Thank God we live at the bottom of the State.

Plus, the Kid is doing somewhat better; she may go to school tomorrow!

Perhaps I'll watch a movie for breakfast... ;)

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A million-times-more-important things in this world, I know, but come on! Make me happy, and Vote. :)

Your apple pie ain't gettin' any warmer...

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Kisses! Dana Andrews and Gene Tierney; LAURA (1944)

My favorite kiss ever, onscreen.

"Get some sleep. Forget the whole thing, like a bad dream."

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Movies for Breakfast (days four, five, and six)

Sunday, Jan 31st. A fussy child. A cranky friend.

Fought with both.

Worst cup of coffee I think I've ever had.

No movie. Too much 'reality'.

Monday, Feb 1st. Is January already dead??

Fixed the kid breakfast, lunch; got her dressed, and sent her to school.

Didn't feel well, so after I washed up, and cooked breakfast, I crawled back into bed. Watched DEAD END. Fell asleep before it was over, and dreamt forgettable dreams, til I was awakened by a phone call.

The lady at the local library wants to inform me, that no, they do NOT have a copy of Stanley's Kingsley's Dead End, A Play in Three Acts. And why would they? They never have a copy of any thing I want to read; no Henry Miller; no Flannery O'Conner. Every single book I've wanted to read in the past few years, I either had to buy a copy of myself, or drive an hour to the University Library in College Town and sit in the well-lit nook, and read.



Me, reading O'Conner's A Good Man is Hard to Find; Spring 2007 -- Still the best short story I've ever read!

Tuesday, February 2nd. So what if the groundhog saw his shadow? Our weatherman says it's an early Spring, and that Yankees point too many damn cameras at that groundhog, and no wonder he saw his shadow!

I roll out of bed, regretting the prior night's alcohol, the lack of writing...a lot of things.

I fix my kid breakfast, and what is this anyway? GROUNDHOG DAY?? Every damn day is the same.

I shuffle her off to school, all bundled up, and I don't even waste time cooking breakfast, or watching a movie. I simply go back to bed. But before I go to sleep, I make a few recordings of recited poems, because this morning, I sound a bit raspy, and vulnerable; filthy yet innocent: an interesting combination! Like a church-going whore, or a tattooed baby.

I really should quit drinking and get more sleep.

Upon waking, I see the sun, and all is gorgeous. I kick myself for staying up late, and for drinking so much, and for being a worthless human-being in general.

I throw on some make-up. Race to my daughter's school, careful to avoid the dead armadillo and the vultures eating it. In the road, right across from the abandoned rent-house with the bedsheet blowing in and out of the open bedroom window. A Barney the Purple Dinosaur bedsheet, and somewhere in this world, a poor kid is crying to his cracked-out, meth-addicted mother, "Mommy, I want my Barney bedsheet! Where is it??"

Imagine: he can't sleep without it, but his mother doesn't care. They rented the house and set the woods on fire; red cedars now grace the side of the dirt road, and there's nothing I can do to heal them. There's nothing I can do, to take that sheet from the window, wash it and dry it, and fold it up nicely, then find the child, and return it to him.

That sheet will blow there 'til the landlords tear it down.

I pick up my child, and the Teacher looks angry. It's the second day in a row I've been late.

There's really no excuse for me. I've been going back to bed, and sleeping all day, when most normal people are out in the world working, earning a living, DOING SOMETHING, making a difference, being somewhere with other people, and everyone is alive and human, and I'm nothing. They might as well lock me away, in a white padded cell, and set it on fire.

The ghost of Zelda Fitzgerald and I would get along swell!

We could put on ballets in Hell, and the Dead End Kids would watch and clap...then throw tomatoes at us.

Those fickle kids.

After some shopping, the Kid and I are home again; she says she feels perfect, but she looks kinda tired and worn-out.

I bathe her, and cook her supper, because I'm an awful mother, but God damn it, I'm dedicated!

Never will my child lose sleep for the lack of a beloved bedsheet...or because of fever, or hunger, or anything else.

-- Not if I can help it!

I lost TOO MUCH sleep as a child, because my parent's were always screaming, and my mother crying, and if I could only sleep at night now, I wouldn't have to sleep in the daytime.

I clean the house, because I know she's getting sick.

My unwatched Netflix is lying on the baker's rack. I've so been looking forward to watching it -- to lying in bed, in something silky; to drinking; to watching something new and fun; to making a night of it! A date with myself; with film -- but I won't do it now, because I'll have to listen to her, and take her temperature, and be 'dedicated' all night.

I'm not complaining.

Life could be worse, though I can't help but panic. I take two pills, and buzz around the house, cleaning.

I take some time to play with my child. And I can't even remember the last time I watched a movie at breakfast!

It seems writing about it -- my 'Movies for Breakfast' series --- has somehow jinxed my routine.

I want to find the perfect balance -- to writing, and life, and old movies, and being a good mommy, a good friend, a decent human being -- but I can't find anything but being lonely and scared.

-- And I'm so sick and tired of being lonely and scared!

After I get the Kid to bed, I go to my room and cry. The smallest upset; it'd probably just be a blip on the radar to most mothers, but to me, it's like a bomb falling. They should really put me away somewhere. A white padded cell. I'm a fire spreading, and I need to be put out. Set me on fire! YOUR fire shall cancel out MY fire.

...

I'm not watching movies for breakfast anymore, so I feel like I'm wasting everyone's time...

If there were a dark hole here right now, I'd point to it, and tell you -- all raspy and innocent:

"I'm going into it."

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Keaton's face is how I feel inside.

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Written February 3rd -- finished around four AM -- right after posting that Halop poem.

Just now felt 'low' enough to edit it.

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Silver Linings, and Holy Grails!

I'm exhausted. Taking care of a pneumonic child is exhausting!!

-- Taking care of a child, period, is exhausting, so girls: do yourselves a favor, and until you never want to be selfish again, or until you hit the age of thirty (whichever happens first), just keep your legs together.

-- There. I said it. Million dollar advice! ;)

In a better mood tonight. Convinced now, that perhaps my daughter has more strength in her than I once perceived, and I've got a hell of a lot more patience.

Going out on a limb tonight! Gonna enjoy my good mood, and do some blogging...because today, damn it, I spent twelve-plus hours, waiting hand and foot on a sick child; taking her temperature, and giving her medicine, and playing with her, and monitoring her, and holding her while she cried.

It was the longest, most emotionally-draining day in FOREVER.

But, thanks to blogging, I'm gonna have some fun...at least until she wakes up for me. Hopefully that won't happen. Hopefully, she'll snooze happily until morning.

Last night, right after I posted that Bronchitis notice, she woke up screaming. I ran to her bedside:

"What is it, Honey??!"

"Mommy," she said, "I can't sleep."

Ha. And I thought the WORLD was ending.

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Optimistic. Perhaps it's silly to be -- and God knows I hardly ever am, nor was I last night; I know better! -- but Hell, I'm in a good mood now, and the kid is snoozing...

Never mind. Right as I wrote that last line, she woke up coughing.

I can't win. ;)

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[Quiet again]

So Holy Grails and Silver Linings.

Yesterday, due to the million-times more important news of my daughter's diagnosis, I failed to mention (or even enjoy, really) the fact that I won one of my 'HOLY GRAIL movie memorabilia' items via eBay!

No kidding.

And I had JUST made a list of my HOLY GRAIL items, composed of 'In Your Dream!' type items (for entertainment purposes, to later blog about) and realistic/practical, 'You may actually be able to acquire this item' type memorabilia. And, obviously, hailing from the latter category, I have acquired it; paid three bucks for it, and it should be here within the week.

Hooray.

Gonna frame it, and add it to some other stuff I'm planning on framing/hanging on the last empty bit of wall space here in my office. I'll photograph it, and share it with you then. :)

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[And now for that list...]

Ginger's HOLY GRAIL OF HOLLYWOOD MEMORABILIA

The 'Realistic' Stuff' --

* A 1930s playbill from the stage production of The Petrified Forest, starring Leslie Howard and Humphrey Bogart
* A 1930s playbill from the stage production of Dead End
* (a few authentic lobby cards and posters...)

The Not-so 'Realistic' Stuff --

* The handheld baseball game Dana Andrews kept fiddling with in LAURA
* Ray Milland's pawned typewriter from THE LOST WEEKEND

Dream Items for Everyone! --

* 'The, uh, stuff dreams are made of' Bird statue, from THE MALTESE FALCON
* Rita Hayworth's black gloves from GILDA

Though I do own a pair of those! Unbitten by Rita, of course, but perhaps bitten by me. ;)

-- As if that's sexy, Ginger! They cost about four dollars...and look just as cheap.

Now I imagine most people would cite Audrey Hepburn's little black dress from BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S -- though I think it was actually auctioned off a couple years ago, wasn't it? The same reason I'm not listing Marilyn's white dress from THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH, or Dorothy's ruby red slippers, etc. -- but I've always much preferred the following:

* Audrey Hepburn's red coat from CHARADE
* Audrey Hepburn's black-and-white party dress from SABRINA
* Audrey Hepburn's entire wardrobe from ROMAN HOLIDAY (minus that God-awful 'Crescent Roll' hat in the finale)

More clothes! Because I'm in a girly mood...

* Scarlett O'Hara's green-and-white 'BBQ at Twelve Oaks' dress from GONE WITH THE WIND

I'd wear it everywhere!! Even to bed.

(Okay, maybe not to bed...)

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A few more dresses could be listed here, but it's almost Midnight, and if I don't get this posted soon, I may turn into a pumpkin!

Or derail my blogathon...

Or get called back to 'Mommy hood' in general.

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Thank you all for your caring thoughts regarding my daughter's sickness, and for all the well-wishes for her soon recovery.

When she wakes up tomorrow, feeling a million times better -- here's hoping! -- I'll be sure to pass those along. :)

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