Like a Bird from the Sky...

...I'll fall onto your head, at the start of the year.

Think I fell in a hole, and forgot how to climb out.

The other hummingbirds came along, and asked, "Why don't you just fly out?"

"Don't ask me silly questions."

Ha. Hummingbirds can't talk!

-- This is what happens when I write a blog piece, when I actually want to write poetry, but am in too good of a mood. ;)

...

So I disappeared again. And you thought, "Well, that's the last we'll ever see of her," again. But here I am again. THUD. Right on your head. Black birds all over the pavement. The New Year killed the flying and the swimming, here in the portal of Hell -- the deep, Hot South -- and God is giving us a rainfall of blackbirds as a warning. "Don't eat the fish!" Don't go outside...out with the old, and in with the new...well how 'bout out with the new, and in with the old?! In with Ginger Ingenue! ;)

THUD. Right on your head, and I'll slide into your lap, and ask, "Honey, did you miss me?"

"Don't ask me silly questions."

Ha. Ghost can't talk.

And I'm a ghost now. I died, three or so months ago, and now I'm haunting you. Haunting this blog. Here to share stories of my obsession with FREAKS, Wallace Ford, and my latest, return-to-love -- thanks to TCM's New Year's Eve treat I didn't see; a storm blew through, and messed up my Directv, or maybe a whirlwind of blackbirds flew past, and knocked out my dish -- the Marx Brothers, and Harpo times a million!

I heard his voice today, for the first time ever, and was shocked how sexy it is! So thick and deep, I want to take a bath in it!

If I weren't already clean...

After hours of house and yard work, I took a bubble bath...a bubble bath! On a Tuesday afternoon. How decadent! Skipped lunch -- had a caffeine pill, and a glass of water, instead -- and ran the hottest, most snow-scented bubble bath I've had in ages.

Shaved my legs. Splashed cold water on my face; had to lie on the bed for a while, just to cool off. And now I'm here; here at my desk in the middle of the day. I've never been a middle of the day writer before. An early morning writer; a Midnight writer, and my all time favorite, the ALL NIGHT writer! But never afternoon...a new tradition, I say. Ginger Ingenue, blogging ghost extraordinaire, shall now blog in the middle of the afternoon! ;)

And for my next trick...

I shall come back from the dead, and review movies, and generally say things that have already been said, but who's keeping track?

THUD. I've hit you on the head, and slid into your lap.

Sitting at my desk, in a black silky top. It's warm for winter. The lights are out. The door, shut. And the fan's on low. My window is open. And every time the warm winter breeze blows in, the peppermint oil I sprinkled on the sill kisses me with sweet thoughts of men I've never met (in person), and men long dead.

Pretty thoughts, and ghosts.

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Link: It's raining birds in Arkansas!!

An article forwarded to me by the best editor in Chicago. ;)

-- Thanks for the idea...

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