i started making my way from the convention center to the capitol building around 6:30, intending to catch a performance by a couple dudes who’d attended our set on sunday. young homie had been pouring his heart out to me about how hiphop with live instrumentation should still be considered “real hiphop;” i cited some great examples to support his position, hoping to releive him, if only for a moment, of the burden of persuasion, but lost interest altogether when he asked me “who’s stetsasonic?” nevertheless, i was on my way to the park to see for delf what it sounded like; modest expectations, time to kill and nothing to lose – odds in my favor.

aaaaanyway, after spending more than six hours chasing a scoop up and down the sidewalk of 16th street mall, i felt my mood shift as i entered civic center park from the north side. i’d literally been bored to slumber by the repetitious waves of delegates and protesters moving about town, their pseudo-passionate posturing sounding to me just like the incessant drone of CNN through the monitors in concourse B. the park was awake; alive. talk all the shit you want about the scent of patchouli and the rhythm of the djembe, i’ll take it over campaign buttons and lapel pins all damn day.

five minutes to seven, i take a seat at the greek ampitheatre where a panther-party affiliate was wrapping up her address (one point of interest in her speech: “i don’t care if you love material things, you can still support the revolution. get together with your bougie-ass friends and do a fund-raiser or something, put on a goddamn fashion show and raise some money for these folks who are really doin’ the work!)” church!

two minutes to seven, some commotion breaks out on the lawn behind me and a mass of several hundred start moving, some slowly, some in a full sprint, into bannock street. lots of noise, lots of curiousity – i found myself almost sucked right out of the ampitheatre (sorry, fellas) and drawn towards the county building, where the nucleus of the mob – dressed in all black, faces covered with cloth, presumably anarchists – were already leading the rest of the crowd in chanting “whose streets? our streets!”

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