I’m used to driving to the Mandrake from the west, so making the trip from Burbank for the first time last weekend, I got completely turned around. I parked in the general vicinity, walked up a confused half block to the stoplight, and was repeatedly pushing the cross button when I looked behind me to see an open door, and over it, the familiar little neon sign: BAR.
The Mandrake is a low-key bar in the industrial-looking area that’s the Culver City arts district. It’s also home to It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere, a quarterly reading series organized by Julia Ingalls (above), essayist and literary provocateur who sometimes writes about her love life. When I walked in, she was up front in a loose tank and white jeans, greeting people with hugs.
“Siel! I haven’t seen you in so long!”
We hugged stickily. It was a warm day, high seventies, and warmer in the bar.
Julia’s readings begin, not coincidentally, at 5 pm. Or more accurately, 5 pm is the listed start time — when people arrive, order drinks, and mingle in the sunnier front room. About a half hour later we’re corralled into the darker, danker back room, with its upholstered booths and ghoulish lighting.
Julia went up front, welcomed everyone, and the crowd of about 40 or so settled in as she introduced the first reader, Mike Sonksen, by reading a bio off her phone.
Mike Sonksen’s better known as Mike the Poet. He wore a jaunty hat and Dodgers T-shirt. He performed his poems — all about L.A. — from memory, bouncing on his heels (sample line: “The 562 is a good time because the people are down to earth”). His energy was catching; the audience smiled and bopped along. He finished with a happy yell — “I’m still alive in Los Angeles. L.A.!” — then bounced back to his seat in the applause.
Lisa Locascio went up next, pink hair glowing under the overhead light. She read from her debut novel Open Me — about a teenager’s affair with a 28-year-old man who starts keeping her locked her up in his apartment (sample line: “How fine to be a body against a smooth plane”).
Then Susan Banyas read her nonfiction work (sample line: “Is there a sense of justice, even in young children?”) with emphatic nods of the head, in the manner of an enthusiastic children’s librarian during story time. Next was Roar Shack organizer David Rocklin, reading a moody excerpt from a new novel he’s working on (sample line: “But there was the sea, blazing cobalt….”). Lynne Thompson closed the reading with more poems (sample line: “Forget this irrelevant history. Can anyone know what’s true?”).
Suddenly, it was over. The crowd applauded and started moving out, stopping at the Skylight Books table to buy the authors’ books.
Back in the sunnier front room, people looked less ghoulish, prettier. We chatted, we mingled. Julia was back in the middle of things, working the crowd. It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere was now about three years old, she told me. She said she tried to get “a medley of different mediums” for each reading — poetry, fiction, nonfiction.
Outside the evening sun was still bright. I started walking toward my car, then realized I was going the wrong way again, and turned around.
The next Five O’Clock Somewhere happens September 15, 2019 — put it on your calendar! To hear about future events, email Julia at subtextdesign@gmail.com and ask to be put on the mailing list.
It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere. Quarterly, 5 pm (email Julia or check Facebook for dates), Mandrake, 2692 S La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles.
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