A Glass Of Wine

I had no idea that this was happening.

Back in 2005, I made a trip to Los Angeles. I used the opportunity to take a short walking tour of Charles Bukowski's Hollywood haunts (which I've spoken about here).

Here's a photograph I took at the time of 5124 De Longpre Avenue, the bungalow he lived in from 1963 to 1972 and in which he wrote Post Office:













Now here's a much more recent photograph:

That's right. The owners have closed it up and are looking for a buyer who will presumably tear down the building and put something in its place.

Interestingly, though, a group of folks have come forward to try and preserve Bukowski's old residence as a literary and cultural landmark.

According to this article, the effort spearheaded by a 26-year old office temp named Lauren Everett has been successful enough to convince The Los Angeles Cultural Heritage Commission to consider the possibility and apparently they'll tour the location soon. Until they make a final decision, no one can touch it. The Hollywood Heritage Foundation has gotten on board, too.

Bukowski was living and writing there when publisher John Martin persuaded him to quit the post office and devote himself to writing full time, which he did by offering the emerging author a living wage.

The rest is, and now perhaps will officially be, history.

Just last night I was watching a TV program in which a character namechecked him and was later shown to be reading a recent volume. On another channel they were showing a documentary on his life. Yet another collection of poetry, The Pleasures Of The Damned, appears next month.

no one is sorry I am leaving,
not even I;

Bukowski wrote in sun coming down,

but there should be a minstrel
or at least a glass of wine.