Posthuman Blues

Meanwhile, in meatspace . . .

My neighbors have been given their eviction notice. From what I've gleaned from the apartment manager, they have a court date this month but seem to have no desire to get packing. Apparently they've managed to work their way into an interesting legal cul-de-sac: since they presumably realize their days are numbered, they know they can get away with anything. So the midnight "house parties" continue unabated. Police come and go to no avail. All is noise.

The manager, perhaps sensing the absurdity, promises me they'll be gone soon. I'm not sure I can bring myself to believe it.