I'm coming to L.A. (1 Viewer)

hey friends,
due to a wedding-invitation to Vegas, I'll be in L.A. from Nov 18-22.
Of course I will have to visit 'the places' in East Hollywood and Mussos and the grave.
Any of you cats from there time to meet for a scotch and water?
mjp: could we visit the grave together?
 
You lucky son of a gun, Roni! Be sure to take some pics and post them here in the forum. Have a nice trip!
 
a word of advice if you do hit the horse races. hollywood park is a delightful race-track and it's in the "nice" part of Inglewood, but my favourite bartender there did advise me not to go to the night races. I think when the sun goes down the area becomes a little bit lively, to say the least.

oh, and don't bother backing the favourite unless it's in a small field.
 
mjp said:
You didn't call, so I figured you were going non-stop...or maybe just ignoring me and hanging around with the more popular kids! Bastard!

mjp, I tried to call you several times.
Always caught the mailbox saying you're not available now. Maybe I made a mistake with the number.

Hope to meet you next time buddy!

_0147_hank-grave.gif
 
mjp, I tried to call you several times.
Always caught the mailbox saying you're not available now.
Ah, sorry man. You have to leave a message, I get a lot of wrong numbers on that phone.

Well I see you made it to Green Hills, that's good. Sorry our paths didn't cross this time.
 
Great photo, Roni! That must have been quite a special feeling to stand by Buk's grave...
 
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thanks, friends.
sure it's only a plate on a hill, but then - it's Buk's.
I took some of the leaves that grow there and use them as a bookmark now. I always tell myself: THIS grew out of Bukowskis body!


here's another one:

_0151_hank-grave.jpg

(yes, I've been there till sundown. and the moon was just coming up.
@ponder: sure I was 'posing' for the pics, they weren't taken by a hidden paparazzi. But this doesn't mean, my emotions would not be true, right?)


@mjp:
yeah, the mailbox offered to send an sms for a callback. But since I've used the cellphones of strangers to call you, I found this useless and decided to try it myself later on. Ah! next time!
(yes, I made it to Green Hills - WALKING all the way from Pacific Coast Highway up the hill along Western Ave! With my backpack on my back! I was SWEATING for my hero!)
 
That's what I call a dedicated Bukowski fan! :D

Great sundown pic, Roni!
 
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@ponder: sure I was 'posing' for the pics, they weren't taken by a hidden paparazzi. But this doesn't mean, my emotions would not be true, right?
Of course I know your emotions are real. I've visited the graves of a few of my favorite writers. Those moments are unforgettable.
 
I've visited the graves of a few of my favorite writers. Those moments are unforgettable.

True!
I remember being at Serge Gainsbourgs grave in Paris the first time. It was raining and I brought a white Lilly. And he had all these white flowers on his grave and little things from fans, like drawings, packets of cigarettes, even a head of cabbage (in remembrance of his song "je suis l'homme a tete de chou"). And I stood there in the rain. And I knew, he hasn't died yet and never will.
 
True!
I remember being at Serge Gainsbourgs grave in Paris the first time. It was raining and I brought a white Lilly. And he had all these white flowers on his grave and little things from fans, like drawings, packets of cigarettes, even a head of cabbage (in remembrance of his song "je suis l'homme a tete de chou"). And I stood there in the rain. And I knew, he hasn't died yet and never will.

what a great sentiment. what great writing. thanks, roni.
 
I really like Serge Gainsborough.

me too.
Histoire de Melody Nelson is a visionary masterpiece that is still influencing new bands.
it still sounds fresh and current, even though it's over 35 (?) years old.
 
Birkin Photo - Dig It

I really like Serge Gainsborough.

I like how Serge and his buddy, a guy who directed a Buk film, also directed Serge's squeeze at the time, being butt-fucked from behind. There's a famous "still" from that film. We see Serge and the director calmly discussing the scene as JANE, buck-naked, waits patiently to be mounted by a disinterested-looking actor. (Yeah, right).

Her name was Jane, an Englishwoman who seems to have become French. Daughter is now a major French actress of sorts.

Serge is in that big saloon in the sky, hangin' with Morrisson, Buk and Kerouac, but Buk keeps on going off to his room to be alone, to "hit the typer".
 

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