the eyepool

I have won a lottery of sorts, and have a lot of love to go around right now. (Or maybe a better metaphor is that I have a very fecund love-vine in my garden?)

If anyone needs some (and some of you do, I see it in your posts, I can tell by the pixels) please feel free to ask.

katejustkate:

you should probably scoop out my eyes with a melon baller. 

i saw you staring naked at the great black sky
and you looked like rain in london 
which is to say nothing out of the ordinary;

you were wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and a pair of dusty shoes
and you were staring naked at the world
and in your hand was a bottle of rum wrapped in a paper bag. 

you were waiting for a girl who is in love with a boy
who is not you
to drive up and you would get in her car and i don’t want to think about it.

you had done this last weekend and the weekend before.
you are older now.
i am supposed to excuse this behavior.

when i was seven you went to the carnival with your friend kevin
and won a giant purple and blue narwhal from the midway games
and when i saw it i loved it so much i cried
so you gave it to me.

you were standing empty-eyed on the sidewalk when she pulled up
in a black jeep that looked like the opening to a sewer drain with the cap stripped off;
you got in the car and i could see you trying to forget i or anyone else small existed. 

when i was fifteen and you were eighteen
your friend asked if i wanted to play frisbee in the park
and if i did would i wear those shorts.
you did not talk to him for the rest of the day.
he is dead now and we both wish we had been kinder. 

from my window i watched the red taillights float ghost-like around the bend.
you parked by the pond near a cement wall
where ferns grew in the yawning gap. 
i felt the earth groan below me. 

i thought about her boyfriend
and how you are a nice person.
you buy me books on my birthday and let me ask questions during movies. 

i am terrified of submerged objects in all bodies of water;
sunken ships, crashed planes, submarines, rocks, sodden planks, moldering buoys. 
i hate to think about
everything
underneath. 

(via ex-waif)

pavorst

~swoon~

(via runawaytrain)

I still have a lot to learn. I think I mastered the first half of this, during my marriagep, but definitely not the second half. I never felt entirely safe, entirely accepted, entirely able to be me. Next time… —eyepool

(Source: thelandlockedmariner)

Shana Abé (via kari-shma)

Yes…

(via thelandlockedmariner)

Alan Cohen (via flesh-of-burning-love)

(Source: uni-tea, via thelandlockedmariner)

velveteenrabbit:

oldtobegin:

if i’ve cooked you a meal, i love you. 

if i remember what your favorite drink is, i love you.

if i’ve sent you a late night email, i love you.

if i’ve texted you an inside joke out of nowhere, i love you.

if i’ve remembered to lend you an article or book or CD i promised to lend you, i love you.

if i tell you i love you, i love you.

if i forget to tell you i love you, i love you.

one thing i’ve felt quite acutely since all of my brain chemicals have slowed down the rate at which they fight with one another is that a significant chunk of my negativity, cynicism, anxiety and overall agita comes from a fear that those i love won’t love me. it comes from a need to be needed. it comes from a tension between how i feel and how i worry that i am perceived. and as i feel that fade, i find things.

so there’s this: i’ve always had a hard time understanding the gap between myself and others. it’s a fine seam, a divot on the roof of my mouth i tongue constantly but can never find when i need to. always, when i’ve meant to get close i’ve pulled back; when distance is paramount i find i’m flesh to flesh. i don’t know where i stop and you start and i have a hard time knowing how to seem separate for the sake of society.

and then there’s this: as i “get better” (a phrase i reject) i start to see that this isn’t a bug but a feature. i’m a scorpio, you know? i bond intensely. my affection is deep. our love is real. that intensity isn’t something to apologize about, to hide or mask or take abuse for. anyone who shits on it is garbage. anyone who fears it is hurting (and i love them and cherish their hurt, too). 

what i can’t abide, what i don’t love, is all the time i’ve spent afraid to express my positivity as readily as my negativity. i always assert that cynics are optimists - we wouldn’t be so bratty if we didn’t believe things could be better. and in so many key ways that belief has shaped my personality, my sense of humor, my whole life. but the reality is i’ve spent most of my post-pubescent life living in the confines of a self-created abrasiveness; a false shield i built so no one would ever have to know how deeply i revere everything. i’m tired of pretending to be someone i’m not. i’m tired of pretending not to love you.

oh holy cats, i relate.

i feel so much of this.

i love all of it.

Part of this is in me too. “a fear that those i love won’t love me … a need to be needed … a tension between how i feel and how i worry that i am perceived” — definitely. But the “gap between myself and others” is different. I am aware of the distance (and need a certain amount) but it’s difficult to navigate into the right orbit. My classic maneuver is an inadvertent slingshot that takes me flying far away…

Courtney A. Walsh  (via amor-omnibus)

(Source: erosboros, via eternallyflowing)

Anthony de Mello (via nirvikalpa)

(Source: starryyeyed, via thelandlockedmariner)

Big Star — “I’m In Love With A Girl”

It’s not much of a song on paper, to be honest; it’s Alex Chilton’s voice that chokes me up every time I hear it.