The orcas must live ...

My life, in some sly way, is normalizing. I have a job, a place, I can buy food (and other stuff), and so stuff isn't so bad in many ways and my attitude reflects this. The job is absurd, but I'm coming to a place of acceptance with respect to the absurdity ... it's ok ... the company I work for is one, giant, break-fix-queue ... and that's ok.

People will ask me about where I live ... and I enjoy playing with the absurd, even to the point of messing with people ... something more Kafka than Camus ...

I tell them that I live in one of those new-style micro-studio type cube systems, where every cube is a bio-degradable-removable-living-habitat that can be pulled out and removed, and another inserted. This whole thing reduces the cost of construction and maintenance greatly ...

The price is reasonable for Seattle, but in order to live here you have to sign a special contract:

"I relinquish legal control of my dead body and give it to the Commencement Bay Orca Foundation to use as food to feed the rare orca whales that live in Commencement Bay and have grown accustomed to eating drowned homeless people, so now they only eat long pig and crap, and we want to toss your body to them using the giant trebuchet next to the building. See you on the other side."

If you die in your sleep while living where I now live, the apartment owners have the legal right to toss your entire bio-degradable cube out into Commencement Bay so that a weird pod of orca whales can survive when there aren't enough drowned hobos. The cube degrades, the orcas tear it apart to get to the dead carcass within, the body is torn to pieces, and the Commencement Bay killer whales survive another day.

This is what I tell people when they ask me about where I live ...