A couple of reviews of my debut dj performance last night. Thank you to Alan Osborn, the mysterious person who left the note and everyone who came out.

“YOU’LL NEVER DJ IN THIS TOWN AGAIN!”

I can tell you the EXACT moment I fell in love with Mona Superhero. It was when she passed out bottles of bubble blowers (y’know, those little plastic bottles of soap that kids blow bubbles with) to the customers sitting around the rack at the Magic Gardens, then she went on stage and struck a pose from Botechelli’s, VENUS RISING and just stood there motionless while all these guys blew bubbles at her. I couldn’t tell you the name of the aria she was playing, but I do know art when I see it and this was sheer fucking genius; brilliant! At that moment I converted to being a huge Mona fan (and this is coming from someone who used to check the schedule and avoid going in the club when she worked because of her annoying attitude) and have followed her career ever since. So when I heard she was having her “DJ Debut” at Berbatis on Saturday I had to go check this out.

That being said, I was absolutely dreading the thought of being “The Weirdo Old Guy” at a dance club (hey, let’s see how cool YOU are at 47). I mean, even after taking away the icky-ness factor of being 47 and hanging around a bunch of club kids, the fact remains that I just don’t cotton to that techno stuff. But at the same time I knew that if I didn’t go I’d never forgive myself, so I took the MAX downtown knowing it was going to take a lot of alcohol to handle this scene and I didn’t need to be driving.

I got to the club before they opened and hung out for a while at the bar waiting for Mona to show up, but when 10:00 rolled around she still wasn’t there and some guy was setting up his sound check in the DJ booth. I asked the bartender if tonight was the night for Mona to DJ and she said, “Mona’s next door.” I didn’t understand and said, “Next door, but this is Berbati’s, isn’t it?” She said, “Next door, Mona’s not in the club, she’s DJ’ing the restaurant.” “THE WHAT?”, was all I could say. Sure enough, I go through the bar and tucked away in the front of the restaurant was Miss Mona (”Dressed in the height of fashion, O’ my brothers”) and concentrating feverishly on her laptop. The music started and almost instantly a bunch of lame-o’s with faux hawks and cheap cans of beer lined up to make requests, but Mona just shook her head and mouthed the words, “I don’t do requests”, and kept on dancin’ while keeping one eye on her computer screen.

Mona seemed to be having a lot of fun, and the people there were drinking their drinks and having a good time. I snapped a couple of pictures and said my goodbyes and left not knowing whether I’d ever see Mo’ again (we don’t exactly travel in the same circles). On the long, cold walk to the MAX line I thought about this town, this Portland, and how it attracts creative types of every stripe. This town, with its old brick and fucking endless rain, its dirty river and its ugly bridges. This town, built as it is on top of 150-years of shit and fornication. I thought about Portland, and I thought about Mona. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “If you’ve seen the present then you’ve seen everything - as it’s been since the beginning, as it will be forever. The same substance, the same form. All of it.” And I think that’s a fitting metaphor for Mona; she was cool back then, she’s cool now, and may it always be thus.