I’ve been institutionalised, W. says. Bureaucratised! It was when I became the perfect administrator that I stopped doing any real philosophical work.

What do I do in my office? Answer emails. Fill out spreadsheets. Take home management communiqués, and read them with bloodshot eyes.

My work is absurd!, W. says. I know it's absurd. But I thrive on absurdity. I want absurdity. I want to be the most absurd man alive, gleefully doing the most absurd of work. I want to concentrate the absurdity of the world into my life, and to do so with my gleeful smile, which says: the world has finished.

I don't suffer my absurdity, that's what troubles him, W. says.