Not-enough crawled out of me, an avatar wearing night-goggles caked in frost. It was an amateur when it came to daylight. Not-enough spends most of its life in nocturne, embedded crablike in a grotto: unseen, unheard. Which is why I am attempting in my own clumsy and naïve way to be scrupulous and votive when it comes to essaying the unseen and unheard. Not-enough was frequently overlooked, left to its own dark devices and motives, and I wanted to modify that relationship. The seen and heard were often, not always, but often the visual-physical manifest, the freighted collective, in disguise, of the unseen unheard. In this regard, the world of appearances was composed predominantly of symptoms. Symptoms had become the masked face and surrogate anatomy of many and much, people were not living lives anymore they were living symptoms, or you could say they were living the symptomatic side-effects of living. In other words (and there are always other words for the words we have or imagine we have): Not-enough was running the show. People were not aware that not-enough was running the show, or running their lives. Yet that was not my primary concern, nor should it be. My business concerned my not-enough. Not-enough had authored many works for me, had driven me to drink and drug, to fornicate in a revolving door series of one-night stands … not-enough functions as the petty and spiteful white-wigged governor, the Napoleonic mafia boss running shit from down below, from deep within, its pulpit both crow’s nest and fallout shelter. Except wasn’t this me portraying and conveying not-enough as such? I needed to redefine the dynamics of our relationship. Not-enough doesn’t need more. Its appetite is bottomless so giving it more is the same as giving it nothing at all. You don’t order take-out for a tapeworm. A waste of time, energy, and resources. What to do instead? I gave not-enough some air. Some breathing room. It was like watching a micro-goblin emerge blinkingly into the light. Not-enough, despite its name and title, doesn’t actually need anything. Or very little. Space, air, light. And these words. I give not-enough these words because I am attempting to chronicle and narrate the secret life of not-enough, give its story of ventilation proper passage. Enough about me, and more about not-enough. Or something to that effect.