I never said anything I wanted to say to anyone. I’ve misinterpreted the whole set from the start. That table of data in the nucleotides isn’t about reading at all. It’s about saying, out loud, everything there is, while it’s still sayable. The whole, impossibly complex goldberg invention of speech, wasted on someone who from the first listened only to that string of molecules governing cowardice. Obvious out in the open: every measure, every vertical instant infused with that absurd little theme insisting “Live, live,” and me objecting, “But what if it should be real? What if it all means something? What if someone should hold me to my words?”
