Don’t you just love surprises?
Well yesterday, I got two of them.
First Surprise
I found an old friend on Facebook. We hadn’t seen each other for maybe two or three years, maybe even more, so it was nice to reconnect. I saw this guy grow up; he used to live across the lane and was friends with my oldest son.
Second Surprise
After we exchanged a bunch of messages on Facebook – news about our respective families, what’s happening in our lives these days, are we in love or not, how’s the health and all that jazz – good ol’ Éric sent me this drawing: he took my Oza cartoon, crossed her arms, and drew himself at her side. Too cool! Worst is, I had forgotten how well he can draw.
I’d like to remind you that if you really want to get in on this trip, if your Inner Kid still believes in magic, then go to Facebook and register. Once you’ve registered, glide on over to my group, Road Trip Destination Happiness, and join. That’s how you’ll get to see all the people who are on this trip – a mighty swell gang, from places all over the World. Even my dear ex-neighbour is in the van…oh yeah.
One Last Thing
Apart from his talent for drawing, Éric Goyette is an excellent guitarist, bassist and singer (rock and blues), as well as a cabinetmaker. And now that he’s back in Montréal, he’s looking for work. So if ever you need his services, please send me a message on my contact page. Thanks!
Spent the last 26 hours with family and friends, ate way too much food, enjoyed a few glasses of wine and a sip of port, even got to sing and dance…which is something I hadn’t done in quite a while. All in all, I’m refreshed, refuelled, and ready to pursue our quest for happiness.
And since there’s nothing like a good plan, here’s what I came up with:
** Tomorrow we drive to 1949, where we’ll witness one of Violette’s worst days – how her good news turns into bad news with the help of a caring in-law.
** On Friday, we swing back to 1918, to see how Edmond came to be and what his dreams were as a kid.
** Saturday, we ride through 1921 and beyond, to visit Violette’s humble beginnings.
** By Sunday, prepare for the wedding that takes place on August 28, 1948. No need to dress up – we’ll be watching it through the church window.
Finally, on New Year’s Eve, I’ll be hosting a Web Party.
I have no clue what I’ll do, but I’ll try my best
to entertain you.
Hugs and love,
Oza a.k.a. Mudd
(and vice versa)
xoxo
**NOTE: Kindly replace the crossed-out information
with “Soon” or “Eventually.” Thanks!
The gifts are wrapped, I’ve caught up with emails and Facebook messages, and I’m sipping a glass of wine, listening to Couleur Jazz—a radio station, here in Montréal.
Jazzed up Christmas songs are so much better than the usual stuff you hear on other radio stations. Like this last one that just played, a real tear-jerker of a blues song, all about this guy who’s alone for the holidays, his stocking’s full of holes, Santa comes down the chimney and steals his Christmas tree. Ouch!
The van is parked in the yard, snoozing till the festivities come to an end and the World starts turning again. I can’t wait to get back on the road. Oh yeah!
Merry Christmas, my beautiful friends.
Don’t forget to share the love.
If you’d like to make your presence in the van a little more *official* and meet all the other fun people who are already on board, get yourself over to FACEBOOK and register.
Okay…the van is fixed, and we’re at the Bardo Drive-in, waiting for the movie to start.
Dogs have settled in, everyone’s comfortable, popcorn is being passed around, and…action!
My Conception
Edmond penetrates Violette, without any foreplay, at 10:28 p.m. on November 19, 1949, just as Frankie Laine starts singing Mule Train on the radio.
Mule train!!
(Hyah, hyah)
Mule train!!
Clippety cloppin’ over hill and plain…
Eddy is drunk. And seeing he’s been married to Violette for over a year now, he’s stopped washing every day and stinks of week-old sweat and hundreds of cigarettes. His breath is a mix of rotting teeth, cooked cabbage, and beer burps. Violette turns her head away to look at the Emerson Aristocrat radio that’s sitting on the mahogany night table. “It’s such a pretty shade of red…I suppose one could call it cherry red,” she thinks, and then wishes she could switch the channel and maybe catch Dinah Shore singing Buttons And Bows. But no.
Violette turns her head back up again, watches Eddy’s blood-shot baby blue eyes stare right through her for a while, then continues her circular movement towards the other side of the bed. Setting her focus on the closet door—which is slightly ajar—she sees her old pink satin slipper sticking out; she recalls seeing the left one under the couch, that morning, when she vacuumed the living room rug. She pans over to the oak dresser—a gift from her in-laws, a bulky art-deco piece with a cracked, stained mirror. Next to it stands a chair…what’s left of it to see, that is. It’s piled so high with dirty clothes that some of it has spilled onto the floor—mostly socks and underwear. “I’ll do the laundry first thing in the morning,” she decides, and hopes she’ll remember to get the broom out and sweep that cobweb off the ceiling. She can’t understand why she hadn’t noticed it till now, it must be a good eight inches in diameter, right above the door leading out to the kitchen.
Mule train!!
(Hyah, hyah)
Mule train!!
Clippety cloppin’ through the wind and rain
They’ll keep goin’ till they drop, clippety clop, clippety clop
Banging away, Eddy recollects the prostitute who serviced him in his brother’s Ford pick-up the day before. How her red, heavily teased hairsprayed hair swept across his swollen beer belly. And this drives him crazy, and he stiffens and jerks and relieves himself with a growl, mouth wide open, saliva dribbling all over Violette’s ear and neck, and she remains limp while her husband crashes down on her cold body, then finally rolls over to sleep and fart and snore.
Get along, get along, get along…
And so it is that when Frankie belts out his final note, Eddy’s sperm fertilizes Violette’s egg.
It’s Christmas Eve, almost midnight. 
