![[dr. bob]](/dr-bob-sm.gif)
Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 22 of 22. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Toph on December 8, 2004, at 14:47:04
Love Remodeled
Truth be told, we stole the house. It had been a casualty of a bitter divorce, neglected to the point that it became affordable for a young couple the likes of us. Marie couldn't wait to start painting so to make it our own, and also to cover the residue of unhappiness the previous couple had left behind. It was important to us that each kid in our newly blended family have their own room - boundaries are important in this type of arrangement. Marie and I almost seemed to relish the tedious task of transforming the house into a home. I recall being precariously perched atop the ladder painting the high ceiling above the stairs. Marie held the pan so I could keep one hand safely on a rung as I loaded up the roller. "You sure are sloppy," she said to me playfully. I could feel the dampness on my back that must have come from too much paint applied to the ceiling. "It's not too late to marry a real painter," I retorted. I climbed down to check the damage to my old sweatshirt. Before the vanity I contorted and read backwards in the mirror, "I'm a dork" painted on my back. Darting into the hallway I scooped up Marie like a doll and threw her squealing on to the bed. We tore off our clothes as if they were on fire.
In the morning light the next day I laughed when I noticed that throughout or passionate tussle we had tattooed each other all over our naked bodies with latex fingerprints. On the nightstand I could see the engagement ring she had carefully removed to paint. Marie would certainly have noticed even a microdot of paint as she was endlessly admiring her new ring on her finger.
Fast-forward ten years. The kids are all off to college so Marie insists that we paint again. She thinks this will somehow encapsulate all the screaming and crying that the walls have endured. The hallway now seems crowded for two painters. I juggle the pan and the roller trying not to break my neck in full view of Marie who slathers paint on to the door trim. Then I feel a familiar wetness on my back. Excited I clamber down the rungs arriving at the vanity. The reflection reveals a large paint spot that has fallen from a carelessly overloaded roller. I call to Marie, "Honey, do you remember when…?" Irritated, she snaps, "You know, I have better things to do than spend an evening painting."
The next morning I dress and ritualistically lean over to kiss Marie on the forehead. She sleepily waves off my advance with her hand. I notice that the stone on her ring is almost obscured by paint from last night's effort. Heading out the door I lament that the fresh smell of paint no longer smells that good to me.
Posted by TofuEmmy on December 8, 2004, at 21:00:02
In reply to Love Remodeled, posted by Toph on December 8, 2004, at 14:47:04
How did I miss this post? I've painted, and lost my painting partner.
You made me ache.
emmy
Posted by Toph on December 8, 2004, at 22:04:48
In reply to Re: Love Remodeled, posted by TofuEmmy on December 8, 2004, at 21:00:02
I think there are two universal languages, music and suffering.
Posted by saw on December 9, 2004, at 2:58:27
In reply to Love Remodeled, posted by Toph on December 8, 2004, at 14:47:04
This has made me feel so very sad. At this very moment, my husband and I, married 6 months, are having our new home painted before we move in next week.
The twist to this new home is that it was the home I built and shared with my ex husband whom I have not seen for almost 6 years. The walls of that home used to hold deep pain and trauma. I am hoping that the new coat of paint, and the filling of the myriad cracks, will cleanse the walls of the hurt.
Sabrina
Posted by Toph on December 9, 2004, at 9:23:35
In reply to Re: Love Remodeled, posted by saw on December 9, 2004, at 2:58:27
I guess it's not the cup, it's the wine, Sabrina.
Posted by Atticus on December 9, 2004, at 23:28:12
In reply to Love Remodeled, posted by Toph on December 8, 2004, at 14:47:04
Hi Toph,
This piece is powerful, compact, and poignant. And God is in the details, as they say. The once-treasured and now paint-stained ring, the changed sense of space in the area where the two of you are painting. It also focuses on two brief moments separated in time. I always feel that the simpler the event you use as a metaphor for a larger message, the more richly textured and effective the piece. There is always the extraordinary revealed in the seemingly ordinary, and you demonstrate that wonderfully here. Atticus
Posted by saw on December 10, 2004, at 0:15:02
In reply to Re: Love Remodeled » saw, posted by Toph on December 9, 2004, at 9:23:35
This comment has made me feel at peace to move back into this house, when just yesterday I was still feeling very wary.
My new husband is a very, very fine, very matured wine indeed.
Thank you
Sabrina
Posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 12:40:50
In reply to Re: Love Remodeled » Toph, posted by Atticus on December 9, 2004, at 23:28:12
Coming from you Atticus, I'm flattered. I was afraid that you would find it corney. The symbol of the ring was contrived, but the metaphor of the paint is inspired by a real unfortunate change in our relationship. What really pisses me off is I was too anxious to post it and there are so many refinements I could have made, typos and such that I should have changed. Your work always seems so polished. I remember reading before that you were/are a journalist. Do you do any editing? You may hate anyone even touching a word of your poetry (God knows how you hate Bob's asterisks), I would love to see how you would have tweaked or even slashed this story. Would you mind Babblemailing me with your suggestions. I understand if you're not interested. Anyway, thanks. Toph
Posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 18:43:55
In reply to Re: Love Remodeled » Atticus, posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 12:40:50
Atticus,
I regret now asking you to edit my story, especially after visiting your site and discovering that you edit for a living. Just what you need, some unsolicited homework. So I hope everyone doesn't mind, I have a little OCD in me too, and I can't stand that I posted this without tuning it up first. So endulge my vanity as I post it again below.
-Toph
Posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 18:45:49
In reply to Re: Love Remodeled » Atticus, posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 12:40:50
Hi Toph,
One of the great frustrations of PB Writing is the inability of the author to edit something after it's been posted. If, with a bit of perspective, I see a line in my own work that seems clumsy or out of rhythm, I fix it in the version posted on my own Web site (link is in post below). The nice thing about having my own site is that I can keep going back in and refining things as often as I want, even once a poem is posted there. For here, what I usually do is write the poem in Word, polish it up there to catch all the typos and the wince-inducing cliches, then copy and paste it into the posting box on PB Writing. This actually started because my rotten computer freezes up so often, and since you can't save a post while it's in the progress of being composed, I lost a lot of half-written pieces. But now I do it all the time. That way I can play with a piece for days (although this isn't my habit -- I tend to bang through the thing in one day and several sittings if needed; I suspect that comes from constantly writing on deadline at work and being used to finishing things fairly quickly). Rather than superimpose my literary "voice" on your work by playing editor, I think this is the best suggestion I can offer. And just remember that no piece is ever perfect in the eye of the creator. I have the same experience with my illustrations and paintings. There will always be that sense of "Dammit! I only I'd done this instead of that." Being dissatisfied with your work is a good sign, I think. Only people who are dissatisfied work to improve. Still, I felt the story worked well, despite your perception of flaws. Give it some time and come back to it later. I usually have immediate regrets, but then come back later and am better able to see the bits that worked. By all means, keep at it. Like anything else, the more you do it, the better you get. Atticus
Posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 18:48:22
In reply to Love Remodeled, posted by Toph on December 8, 2004, at 14:47:04
Coat of Armor
Truth be told, we stole the house. It had been a casualty of a bitter divorce, neglected to the point that it became affordable for a young couple like us. Marie couldn't wait to start painting so to make it our own, and also to cover the residue of unhappiness the previous couple had left behind. It was important to us that each kid in our newly blended family have their own room as boundaries are important in this type of arrangement. Marie and I almost seemed to relish the tedious task of transforming the house into a home. I recall being precariously perched atop the ladder painting the high ceiling above the stairs. Marie held the pan so I could keep one hand safely on a rung as I loaded up the roller. "You sure are sloppy," she said to me playfully. I could feel the dampness on my back that must have come from too much paint applied to the ceiling. "It's not too late to marry a real painter," I retorted. I climbed down to check the damage to my old sweatshirt. Before the vanity I contorted and read backwards in the mirror, "DORK" painted on my back. Darting into the hallway I scooped up Marie like a doll and threw her squealing on to the bed. We tore off our clothes as if they were on fire…
In the next day's morning light, I laughed when I noticed our naked bodies tattooed with latex fingerprints. On the nightstand laid Marie's engagement ring she had carefully removed before painting. She would certainly have noticed even the smallest speck of paint as she could frequently be found admiring this new treasure adorning her finger.
---
Ten years later, the kids are all off to college, so Marie insists that we paint again. She thinks this will somehow encapsulate all the screaming and crying that the walls have endured in recent years. The hallway now seems crowded for two painters. I juggle the pan and the roller trying not to break my neck as Marie impatiently slathers paint on to the door trim below my ladder. Then I feel a familiar wetness on my back. I clamber eagerly down the rungs arriving at the vanity. My reflection reveals a large spot of paint that has fallen from a carelessly overloaded roller. I call to Marie, "Honey, do you remember when…?" Irritated, she snaps, "You know, I have better things to do than paint tonight."
The next morning I dress and ritualistically lean over to kiss my wife on the forehead. She sleepily waves off my advance with her hand. I notice that the stone on her ring is nearly obscured by paint from last night's labor. Heading into the hall it becomes apparent that the walls are going to need a second coat.
Posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 19:39:06
In reply to Coat of Armor, posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 18:48:22
Hullo Toph,
I like the addition of the last line. It's apparent simplicity belies all the levels of meaning it captures: in particular, the wounded but persistant optimism of the narrator as he observes that a second coat of paint will save the day, when the events of the story's second part have made it apparent that not even 100 coats of "paint" will "erase" the pain in this relationship.
One small grammatical correction:
> ... each kid in our newly blended family have their own room ...
You have subject/verb disagreement here: a singular subject "kid" and a plural possessive "their" that refers back to "kid." Potential solutions: "... each kid in our new family have his or her own room." But the "his or her" sounds awkward. So you might want to go with "... all the kids in our newly blended family have their own rooms." This whole story reminds me of a line from Woody Allen's "Annie Hall": the dark observation, "Love fades." It's like saying, "Life is unfair." Both are bitter pills to swallow, but sadly have the ring of truth to me. In any case, nice piece! Atticus
Posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 21:14:23
In reply to Re: Coat of Armor » Toph, posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 19:39:06
Thanks Atticus, your complimentary remarks mean a lot. As for grammar, well, suffice it to say that my father used to correct my speech all the time so that I could get into a "proper school." I mastered adverbs, but as for the the rest, well, I thought a dangling participle meant ill-fitting underwear.
While I have your attention, you are probably aware that you are an enigmatic figure around here. There's your relentless effort to immasculate Bob. Many of us also slip into adolescent mode when it comes to assinine limitations of speech, emotion and critical discourse. Then there's your poetry (though I confess I read it selectively)which strikes me as raw realism, like a Sam Peckinpah film - graphic, but, unlike Peckinpah, not gratutitously so. Then there's the warm fuzzy Atticus who non-judgementally says really nice, encouraging things to other posters who express themselves (did I get that subject/verb thing right) using varying abilities of artistic sophistication. Let me say here that when you go on sabatical or visit the gulag I, for one, am a little less intimidated about posting here some lame attempt at creative expression. After all, you're a f*cking professor, for Christ's sake. Anyway, I wouldn't ask you what's behind these disperate personalities of yours because I assume you'd prefer to let your work speaks for you. It must be nice to have the ability to assemble words into an artificial but nonetheless human reality as you do so well, oh wait, isn't that what Bob does too?
Posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 23:23:39
In reply to Re: Coat of Armor » Atticus, posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 21:14:23
Hmmm. Actually, I’m not being disingenuous when I say that wasn’t aware that other Babblers gave me much thought at all. If I really understood how all the bits of my chemically challenged brain fit together, I doubt I’d have been in therapy for the past eight years (I suspect the piece don’t fit. It’s like getting an “irregular” sweater where one sleeve is longer than the other and the hem at the bottom is unraveled). Nor would I have sliced up my left wrist like a sushi chef this past spring in a suicide attempt and ended up in a hospital lock-up psych ward under watch. Nor would I be on disability leave right now because after a hypomanic summer and early fall, my meds seemed to flame out dramatically in early November, leading me to a majorzilla depressive crash and burn. Maybe the bipolar disorder with rapid cycling accounts for some of my apparently paradoxical quicksilver mood changes; I dunno, Toph. It’s hard to see this stuff from the inside out. I suppose one way to glean some understanding of me would be to read the autobiographical poem story cycle on my site starting with “Why I’m Goin’ Straight to Hell, 1978” and ending with “Ned’s Dead.” The dates indicate when the events happened, not when the poems were written. The absence of a date indicates the event occurred this year. I started writing them (all out of chronological order, but I rearranged them into a timeline on my site) this past summer in an attempt to figure myself out. It’s still a work in progress, I guess. Really, even the poems not explicitly about me are still about me, as they express some world view I hold.
But to address your other comments: I’m not a professor. I write and edit and oversee production on university publications such as the annual report and faculty/staff newspaper, knock out press releases, and act as a media liaison to hook up reporters with experts on our faculty who could offer commentary for television, radio, and newspaper news stories. Essentially, we’re talking PR work.
More importantly, I think I’ve really absorbed the various aspects of the punk ethic to the bone. First and foremost among those is the DIY (Do It Yourself) credo, which boils down to this. If you want to perform music, emulate the Ramones. They learned three or four chords, knocked out a bunch of songs, and hit the stage at CBGB’s. You’ve got to believe that there’s no such thing as an “attempt” at creative expression. There’s just creative expression, period. It’s best to learn not to give a damn whether other people like what you produce or not (except at work, in my case, where I do what I refer to as my “pay-the-rent whore writing” – I understand it’s not a perfect world, and I’ve been lucky enough to support myself by one kind of writing or another since graduating from college). I certainly don’t mean to have an intimidating effect on other writers of poetry or fiction or essays on PB Writing; I’d like to encourage anyone who posts there to keep at it without coming across like I’m some kind of half-@ssed wise man or something. I like an exchange of comments about our respective pieces. I’m just a loon who can carry a rhythmic tune. Like most poets. Am I really seen as the poor man’s Cobain of PB? Sorry. Don’t mean to leave the impression that I’ve got a big head because I can play with words.
I’ve noticed my poems themselves have moved from being primarily driven by visual metaphor to being driven by rhythm and sound and well. I’ve been listening to Dylan a lot. If I could write poems like anyone, they’d be like his 1960s songs.
As for picking on Dr. Bob, that just sort of evolved organically. As I saw what struck me as sometimes capricious decisions and punishments pile up over time, I became angry at what I felt was the injustice of much of it. It’s ironic. I’ve never gotten a PBC or been blocked for anything I did on PB Writing. It’s always come from leaping to someone else’s defense with a punker’s sense of outrage and hard-wired distrust and disdain for authority – and disregard for rules. I can’t remember what my first weeklong block was for, but the second three-week one was for a savage attack on Dr. Bob after he blocked Jai from posting until after the American presidential election. Now things have settled into a kind of snarky teasing, just being as cheeky as possible when I disagree with him without losing my cool. It’s just a bit of fun – and I suppose a somewhat darker side of my personality.
So to make a long story even bloody longer, I’ve no really solid answers to give you. Just the messy and tangled reality of one more complex being on a site packed with them. Anyway, feel free to ask questions. I’ve pretty much revealed my secret identity with that link to my Web site. Feels a bit like Clark Kent taking off his glasses to rub his eyes in the middle of the Daily Planet newsroom, then thinking, “Oh sh*t,” then figuring, “What the hell.” Take care. Ta. Atticus
Posted by Toph on December 11, 2004, at 0:11:41
In reply to Re: Coat of Armor, posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 23:23:39
Your armor is almost translucent Atticus. Neither of us want this to be an endless dialogue but after revealing so much of yourself I'd like to make a few comments. A kindred spirit of sorts, I, too, am bipolar and know the trappings of an unfettered manic brain operating at warp speed. I have also experienced depression, a torture excrutiating enough to make Mengele envious. Unlike you, however, I don't have the cathartic outlet that you have like your primal punk scream therapy or the nuance of a well-crafted phrase. I hope when you get writer's block that you are not tempted to go off you meds or otherwise induce mania as most bipolars know how to do in a reckless attempt to mine some new material.
Another annoying question, when you describe your frustration with the constraints of your pedestrian job could you be displacing some of that pent-up contempt onto the Babblemeister unwittingly? OK, I confess, he Babblemailed me and begged me to ask you that question.
As always, no need to reply unless you find it amusing to tell a bunch of total strangers intimate details about yourself.
-Toph
Posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 0:56:27
In reply to Re: Coat of Armor, posted by Toph on December 11, 2004, at 0:11:41
Nope. He'd p*ss me off anyway.
Right, now that I've gotten my one-liner out of the way, let me try to hold a straight face and answer as honestly as I can. It's possible that frustration could be transferred from one area of my life to another; I can't rule that out. But then, logically, you'd think I'd be hostile to a lot of people who make me cross on PB at times, and that doesn't happen. (And it's not about that "flight vs. fight" group dynamic business he's always on about over on Admin. Gawwwwd, if he trots that chesnut out one more time ...)
I think it boils down to a hard-wired suspicion and distrust of authority (which probably initially drew me to punk when I was about 15, and then submerged me in a subculture that encouraged it), on the one hand. That was baggage I brought with me to this page.
But it never would have been directed at him in such a vitriolic (or at times snarky) manner if I didn't genuinely have some issues with his administration of this page. I believe absolute power corrupts absolutely, and there is simply no system of checks and balances where Dr. Bob's punitive powers are concerned. I'd also be encouraged if he could more readily admit to being as fallible as other human beings. I don't think that just reducing Susan47's recent block (which a number of us felt was utterly uncalled-for) from two weeks to one was enough. I'd have liked to have seen him say in his post on Admin, "Look, I blew it. I was skimming and made a mistake. I'm overworked trying to oversee this site and slip-ups occur. I'M SORRY, SUSAN." THAT'S what I felt was missing the most: the courtesy of an apology. That isn't the whole ball of wax, but it's a good example of what bothers me. I'd like to see him finally get around to appointing some deputies, with whom he would consult BEFORE handing out PBCs and blocks. If something like this had been in place, I sincerely doubt Susan would have gotten even a PBC; Dr. Bob would have been overruled.
What really intrigues me is the fact that he didn't ask me this question himself, but handed over the task to you. Honestly, I'm not a bogeyman, Dr. Bob. Part of what's going on has to do with my issues (hypomania, punker's mindset), and part of what's going on has to do with what I perceive as your issues about yielding any control over the site.
I guess I'd make a hell of a case study, eh? Peace out, Dr. B! Don't take it all seriously. I don't. I was an editorial cartoonist for a medium-sized newspaper as a sideline for about seven years, and poking a little fun really suited me. Cracking wise is de rigour in NYC. (I thought you Chicagoans were supposed to be wise guys, too.) Maybe you could subcontract to Studs Terkel for responses to my posts (if he's still alive -- I don't remember.) Anyway, it's getting late here on the East Coast. Time to crash. Catch you later, Toph. ;) Atticus, the Dennis the Menace to Dr. Bob's long-suffering Mr. Wilson
Posted by Dr. Bob on December 11, 2004, at 4:33:03
In reply to Re: Editing » Toph, posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 18:45:49
> One of the great frustrations of PB Writing is the inability of the author to edit something after it's been posted.
This has come up before, please feel free to add to that discussion:
http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/admin/20030404/msgs/224641.html
What about just posting a revised version? It could also be interesting to discuss the differences...
Bob
Posted by Toph on December 11, 2004, at 9:15:51
In reply to Re: Editing, posted by Dr. Bob on December 11, 2004, at 4:33:03
I hate to admit that I agree with you on this one Bob, cyber reality is best left as a slide show with successive slides added. I found that there's real palpable emotion in this format that would get messed up with editing. This from someone who sucks at spelling - wait, I have to check for vulgarity (whew, says suck is slang not vulgar). You might, however, save a few PBCs if you had some editing feature because you could say, edit or be blocked, but that has even a more sinister feel of censorship when you demand versus politely request someone to be civil.
Oh, and you know this, but I'm telling Atticus now that you did not Babble mail me. I'm surpised that he believed that obsurdity - not that you would e-mail someone, but that you would ever ask someone about there feelings for you. Have a nice day day, Bob.
-Toph.
Posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 18:24:39
In reply to Re: Editing » Dr. Bob, posted by Toph on December 11, 2004, at 9:15:51
>Oh, and you know this, but I'm telling Atticus now that you did not Babble mail me. I'm surpised that he believed that absurdity ...
Hmmm. I really did think we were in the midst of an honest and heartfelt exchange, Toph. I had no reason, given the context, to think that you were kidding. Thanks for the public embarrassment of getting me to respond to something you made up. Christ, after all the things I shared in my prior posts ... And then you have the f*cking nerve to indicate to Dr. Bob in trying to explain yourself that I was at fault for believing your lie by being naive or stupid. Nice. I think this will be our last communication, Toph. Who needs this kind of sh*t? Atticus
Posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 19:15:31
In reply to Re: Editing, posted by Dr. Bob on December 11, 2004, at 4:33:03
Hullo Dr. Bob,
I had no idea reposting a revised version of a poem was kosher. I'd like to do that with a piece.
Thanks. Atticus
Posted by Toph on December 12, 2004, at 14:19:52
In reply to Re: Editing » Toph, posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 18:24:39
> >Oh, and you know this, but I'm telling Atticus now that you did not Babble mail me. I'm surpised that he believed that absurdity ...
>
> Hmmm. I really did think we were in the midst of an honest and heartfelt exchange, Toph. I had no reason, given the context, to think that you were kidding. Thanks for the public embarrassment of getting me to respond to something you made up. Christ, after all the things I shared in my prior posts ... And then you have the f*cking nerve to indicate to Dr. Bob in trying to explain yourself that I was at fault for believing your lie by being naive or stupid. Nice. I think this will be our last communication, Toph. Who needs this kind of sh*t? AtticusI'm not sure what I was thinking at the time, but it sure looks pretty stupid etched in silica for all time. The is rarely a defense for lying. I thought what I proposed was so ubsurd that you would see my deception as parody. I was embarrassed when you took it literally and immediately confessed. I was further embarrased that Bob didn't call me on this dishonesty (although he may have just missed it). I understand that you are pissed and now question my motives during our exchange. I apologize for setting you up. Maybe you will not believe anything I tell you from now on, but I will tell you this, I was and am sincerely interested in the person behind the poetry, I am glad that I and others now know you a little better, and I feel terrible if all that you know of me is that I am an untrustworthy, lying @sshole. Unfortunately, there's no editing human memory.
-Toph
Posted by Atticus on December 12, 2004, at 18:19:04
In reply to Re: Editing stupidity » Atticus, posted by Toph on December 12, 2004, at 14:19:52
Really, Toph, I don't know what to think at this point. I really felt hurt and betrayed when -- given the degree that I'd opened up to you in my prior posts -- it turned out I'd been played. And your explanation to Dr. Bob only made it worse for me. I'm not interested in being permanently p*ssed off at anyone on this site -- Dr. Bob included. But since yesterday I've stepped back and begun to put this exchange in the context of our previous exchanges. Most have consisted of me making a snarky remark about some PB policy or Dr. Bob, and then you posting to me with a smart-*ss remark of your own, as if to egg me on further. And then I think about the way you posted questions here that involved my attitude toward Bob. Seen from my point of view, it sort of appears that -- whether consciously or not -- you've been trying to instigate or escalate conflict between Dr. Bob and myself while you stood by and watched. I have to wonder at this point if there's any validity to this theoretical pathology or not. I feel foolish for being manipulated so easily if this is the case. But these really are questions you have to ask yourself. What are you playing at? And why? I'm left with a lot of questions about your conduct. I'm not going to hold a grudge, but, you're right, I can't help but look at least a bit askance at future posts from you and wonder what's really going through your head. Atticus
This is the end of the thread.
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