Somewhere to unpack

I opened up my blog/subscriptions e-mail looking for some info. and I found this. Drafted October 13, 2005, with the subject line, "I don't fill in blanks," in a folder labeled "She Real Cool." I certainly must have intended to post it here but forgot. I looked through my archives to see what triggered it. I can't remember. It's whatever.

I do know that if I had a disclaimer for this blog it would go a little something like that/this:

To those who know me, well, and those who don't:
This is not an SOS or coherence. I keep my SOS's private and let my coherency work for me. This is free.

Tuesday, while running off at the mouth to an acquaintance on the train I got as close as I can get to rage--frustration--over some unwanted closeness in my life. It's a recurring stumbling block--keeping this one at that bay and drawing this one nearer--because it requires clear communication. And when it comes to feeling and not feeling I just don't get to the point.

I have trouble maintaining distance and establishing closeness. Those who I'd wish would leave me be are all about and those who I wouldn't do without I leave be.

Iquo (who blogs over on myspace) and I were talking the other day and I came to the conclusion that as much as I love how blogging bridges gaps it can contract to the point of breathlessness as in you think you know but you have NO IDEA(R)! But I know that I know that I know that I know that I'd feel hot breath on my neck* whether I blogged or not.

I'm off. Feeling Stevie Wonderish.

*Despite what Erykah sang this is NOT hot.