11 27 pm pdt   [ g.mona ]

It was with a bit of embarrassment that I realized that tonight was my sixth Groaning Mona concert. I had invited Alexandra. I picked her up at UCLA, where she had been studying for tomorrow's poetry midterm.

After doing a tremendously bad job of parallel parking on Sunset, and requesting change from the nearest cashier, we made our way to the Roxy. There were more than the usual number of freaks waiting outside, and then I spotted Charles. The band was set to start in just a few minutes but they were all standing outside. I could feel disaster encroaching on the corners.

Groaning Mona attendees are a strange bunch (obviously, since I am amongst them) but this even saw some serious loonies. I guessed the guy in a cape with a nylon on his head was part of the act; he turned out to be a wrestler called "The Sock". But there were strange older men who felt the need to leave their sunglasses on once they got inside the club; Chalres later informed me that these older, unfamiliar attendees were industry people. There was a woman in an outfit that can only be likened to what a hooker wore in the 70's. I marvelled at her as she took pictures of the band.

By the time the show got started, I decided that this was a horrible idea and that I would never make attempts to introduce new people to my obsession. I had told Alexandra to let me know if she didn't like it and she replied, "I could never do that. He's your friend." It was the worst thing she could have said, because now I would have no idea if she was having a miserable time.

We chatted with Charles' cousin Wayne (and gossiped about him later). I ordered a dissapointing strawberry margarita. Several songs went by and I laughed and laughed at Danta Velveeta's dancing. Alexandra turned to me in a rare lull in the noise and said with a smile, "They're wonderful!"