Cute photographer with a sizable camera shot pictures of store window displays, as the demonstrators walked by with banners and signs. Drivers were honking happily, leaning on their horns.

The short boyish cop made a display of cheery politeness as he kicked people off the City Hall steps.

Matt Timmons introduced me to Kim and asked me what was I doing, just hanging out?

The crowd was pretty diverse except they were a bunch of 2,000 leftists plus assorted hangers-on, like the loser in the Ron Paul T-shirt.

The rasta dude driving the landscaper’s hauling flatbed truck with the big trailer painted with Christian PEACE messages in big red white and blue letters, and signage on the sides that said he’d driven from Santa Cruz to New Orleans to deliver building supplies 15 times, “PEACE PEACE PEACE”, with his speakers broadcasting reggae music, he drove alongside and parked. The last time I saw him was at the Home Deport in Santa Cruz.

Nobody gave any big speeches on the steps of City Hall because this was some kind of anarchist demonstration. Some protestors would be camping at City Hall, surrounded by the crowd and the drummers.

Always the same sullen overgrown ficus trees of California public grounds.

The Streetscapers’ mural on the side of the Victor Clothing Co. building is tagged over with graffiti of course. Victor Clothing Co. is gone—maybe long gone—I wonder what happened to the Broadway mural by John Valadez that was in there.

Upstairs in the Bradbury Bldg the next block down from Victor Clothing Co. is LAPD Internal Affairs. In that 120 year old building they filmed Blade Runner and an Outer Limits episode, science fiction with wrought iron grill work on the old elevator and railings.

2nd Street tunnel through what’s left of Bunker Hill. I turned to it and tried to see it overlaid with photographs of forty or fifty years before. It’s like the opening scene of the 1970s science fiction movie starring Charlton Heston, “Omega Man,” where he’s driving through an empty vacated downtown where he’s the only human being left in a city of vampires. That’s kind of a Bukowski feeling. But I’m surrounded by 3,000 people and they’re having a good time.

I sauntered off like this was some broad avenued endless summer of my youth. Tom called me on the cell and said they’d meet me on 2nd Street.

Maybe we can go back later, take the protestors occupying the City Hall lawn some ice cold drinks, eh?

Stupid, gutted, bankrupt, piss-ass L.A. Times across the street from City Hall, is that Bukowski’s monument? Or Antonio Villaraigosa’s (and the brown princes of the Democratic Party)?

3,000 people—had to march on the sidewalk from Pershing Square. LAPD attended to traffic at the intersections. The protestors didn’t get a permit for the street—there wasn’t that many people, like May Day whatever year that was, 2008 or something.

Smoggy sunshine on the broad avenues.