Some time ago we were told, basically, that we better believe in witches or else. I've never been good in believing in things without evidence, and it's a sight more difficult believing in things without description. But I flat out refuse to claim the non-existence of things because I don't know what is being referred to or because I never managed to get a sharpened pencil to stand on its tip. I'm pretty good at balancing things: for instance, when a project at work stalled I started making business card towers and managed to reach thirteen stories. But I'm just feeling around with the little I know, and a little knowledge is dangerous.
O the good old days, of being told by married colleagues that I should the rather stay single.
Allowing a witch to possess you is a drastic measure, but it appears that persistence is key even for witches. Being hapazardly methodical I would, if things turned out better than when I took suggestions under advisement, tell the witch that according to the bible it got the wrong end of the stick about possession. Witch would no doubt hold the bible open in front of me until I read the part where I'm to blame for everything wrong that happened in its life. Which is somewhat awkward, but I have already committed about the possession.
Thus far in my life I have not met anyone who can but handle my insanity, let alone appreciate the fact that sanity requires incorruptible standards organizations (I have met sweet young women but almost universally they deny the simple facts presented in Genesis 2). In preference, therefore, to the comparative scales that are enforced on men by women (by which I mean that the fun that girls actually have includes that of getting together to decide what boys mayn't do and calling that morality), I have decided to recall the certain knowledge that between one moment in my life and the next I became a different sort of thing.
This happened when two things met; I afterwards spent a lot of mental effort, and a lot of futile worrying, about how to get the two things that met into one rectangle: that's apparently the done thing.
Long time programmers don't like triangles much, because to make one look nice involves visual trickery. But that doesn't matter too much because to lie on top of a triangle one will slide down towards the circle (upon which the rectangle rests), and lying underneath one is a balancing act.
The circle is not drawn because we merely pick a direction and call that the centre of gravity.
I mention triangles because while some suggest that the two things must make haste to get into the same rectangle, others suggest that one of the things comes with a triangle and the first thing is to get it in (which has a double meaning I don't care to detail because it would involve symbols I don't have the right to use). A triangle inside a rectangle, or outside a rectangle, or on the threshold of a rectangle, or going from rectangles they own to rectangles they don't is something we can contemplate almost no end. The thing which some people suggest comes with a triangle is coincident with a witch; almost-no-end got its nickname when witch-coincidence told it about going into rectangles with other things (the exercise is left to the reader why this might lead to contemplation without end).
If someone underneath a triangle, or above or holding no fewer than one were to occupy the same rectangle as me, I would need to know about the other rectangles it had occupied and what it had done within them, and about previous owners and what it had done with them.
Which is to say, contrary to popular belief, what we do inside rectangles is nobody's business but our own.
The culture of avoiding ugly truths and satire tells us to imagine no possessions. It also suggests that triangles can own themselves. The possessor of a triangle also possesses a dagger, if the astute reader has recognized that we are contemplating projections. If the dagger is not withdrawn, we may refer to every book on ownership except those written by the people who choose rectangles with semi-opaque walls.
I used to visit my friends without prior arrangement and they all thought I was looking for a bite to eat. I eventually got the hint that times change: when I get a wife, and no sooner, I'll be able to make visiting arrangements.
It has been told me countless times that I aught to be hoping to find someone who has played the field, who will make me happy.
Happy with the fact that the meaning of playing the field changed in my lifetime?