Coffee Is Good

What if a square was a triangle and happily ever after didn't mean life in the suburbs with a refrigerator that dispenses ice cubes? Maybe not that exactly, but something enough like it—or different enough—to shake up reality a bit.

Then that would be reality and four-sided squares would seem weird, unfathomable even. It's not so difficult to imagine. John Lennon could have done it.

Still, there is comfort in knowing dimensions and being able to trust in their immutability. Then again, what if a square was a triangle on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but a square on other days? Or what if days didn't exist as we have come to define them?

What if we had no language to describe shapes or days? Or what if we had language but it was other than what we know it to be? What if Tuesday was a three-sided object and a triangle was the first day of the work week?

It's all a pointless exercise when you think about it, which you don't. All exercise is pointless when you think about it, which you don't. All thinking is pointless, exorcise it. Don't. Don't. Don't.

Don't you forget about Lennon, who never imagined three-sided squares as far as anyone knows but who did—at least once—contemplate a girl with kaleidoscope eyes. Colors and body parts were more his thing than shapes and days of the week.

Isn't that part of the world's beauty? It has so many dimensions that it can be enjoyed on any level—even ones that don't exist. Levels, not dimensions, although the latter also makes as much sense as anything else.

What a weird place. Squares are squares, and Tuesdays are Tuesdays. Dimensions are immutable. People imagine and then die. Worse, they run out of coffee.

Don't do that. Coffee is good.