on being recognized (1 Viewer)

Here's some more fuel for the fire. I wasn't going to post this but I find all the hissy fits entertaining.

This is on being recognized which appears in Ransom Weirdness #1 and also in a slightly different form in War All The Time. Just a few word changes and a deleted line. Enough to work your nerves, I'm sure.

mjp: you might want to amend the database to reflect that this poem, along with balloon, appears in Random Weirdness #1. balloon appears in an edited version in one of the books but that has already been duly noted.

[...] hissy fits [...] Just a few word changes and a deleted line. Enough to work your nerves, I'm sure.
I assume you read the forums you post in, so I have to assume that you've seen many examples of detrimental changes, yet you dismiss the reaction to those detrimental changes as "hissy fits." What would an appropriate reaction be, I wonder? Beard scratching and thoughtful pipe-chewing?

I can understand someone who is only marginally interested in Bukowski finding it all a bit of a tempest in a teapot, but I can't figure the same reaction from people who have said or demonstrated that Bukowski's work was important to them.

I doubt that idiots and subnormals like Scott Harrison (I won't lump you in with him, but you're starting to sound like him) would spout the same high-handed derisive bullshit if we were talking about an author they actually respected (and if they weren't blinded by the great and glowing sun shining from John Martin's asshole).
I don't think Martin's editing (of the poetry collections, anyway) was sloppy during Bukowski's lifetime. He may not have provided dates or context for most of the collections, but then he was publishing poetry collections, not textbooks. I don't really care if they are chronological or properly grouped - that doesn't matter to me. I can see that the vast majority of the work is virtually untouched between manuscript and publication, and that's enough for me.
Too bad that doesn't hold true for the posthumous books. You could call those sloppy. You could call them a lot of things. One of the things I don't call them anymore is 'Bukowski poetry.'
I should probably be ashamed of myself but my hissy fit comment was an intentional provocation. I was hoping to incite a reaction and am pleased that I did. I wish there had been a few more. I usually don't go around poking angry bears with sharp sticks but I couldn't resist just this once.

I find the edits more unfortunate than I let on, but have made peace with the fact that nothing can be done. Too many years meditating has turned me into a closet pacifist. Indeed, what would an appropriate resolution be? I wonder what could possibly satisfy all of you who seem genuinely upset by these revelations. If you could pluck your magic twanger and have justice served, what would you do?

Thanks for not lumping me in with the other subnormals. I appreciate that and will consider your generosity born out of the spirit of the holiday season. I would caution you, however, against christening those whose opinions are contrary to yours as "idiots." That's a slippery slope, Komrade. The next thing you know, you'll be unfairly labeled as a malcontent.
Harrison isn't an idiot because he disagrees with me, he's an idiot because he's an idiot. I've had that observation verified by many others, so I'm pretty sure it's not just me.

Maybe "idiot" is too strong a word. And here I thought I was exercising restraint by limiting it to subnormal and idiot where he's concerned. Or maybe I've just been on the receiving end of too many of his rambling, incoherent huge blocks of text.

How can justice be served? That's easy to answer: it can't be. And the fact that it can't makes the destruction of the work all the more tragic.

Why bother making a stink then? I don't know. Because I stink? I would simply like people to be aware that what they are reading in those books is not what Bukowski wrote. They can make up their own minds as to its quality. Some people may even prefer the improved poetry.

Because, you know, some people are idiots.

Myself included. I grew up in an idiot time, where people cared about things. No one said, "whatever," about anything, and people were actually angry when they felt something was wrong.

I understand that that kind of agitation is passe, but I'm stuck with it, so what can I do.

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