Patterns of PI

I am fascinated with Pi. I wanted to make a fractal type graph of pi, so I wrote a script that generated x,y coordinates based on each digit:

start with the x,y coords as 0,0

now, take every digit of Pi, and convert it into an operator. even
numbers operate the X axis, odd numbers Y as follows

0 : x-2
1 : y-2
2 : x-1
3 : y-1

( 4 and 5 are midpoints and do nothing )

6 : x+1
7 : y+1
8 : x+2
9 : y+2

for example:
the first digit is 3 so, subtract 1 from y and now the x,y coords are 0,-1
the next digit is 1 so, subtract 2 from y and now the x,y coords are 0,-3
and so on through each digit of pi

I then graphed the output via xgraph... and here you go, I got up to 400,000 digits of pi

http://artofconfusion.org/pi/

if you want to see raw output of xy coordinates, look here

http://artofconfusion.org/pi/pi.php?size=1000

I am most familiar with php, so I made the initial script in php and it could only handle parsing up to 400,000 digits. Once I figure out how to do this with a shell script I hope to graph a million or more points.

It's only a fleeting glimpse...

I have been reminded many times in this last year that life is anything but infallible, permanent or otherwise granted. Tangled in the web of perceived entitlement, instilled from a life of Americanized images, blasted through ears and eyes to wash the mind and create an ignorance we called bliss. A dream within a dream. A poem about a painting of a photograph, crying with dry eyes. 

So much less is my perspective, inaudible whispers my only chance at reflection, redemption and/or introspection. My mothers soon to be late husband lays in wait for my arrival. Likely suffering, wanting only to say his last goodbyes. Mom was crying when I called her today. Two more flights and I will be home. Almost 2000 miles to go. I feel the overpriced airport beer lulling me closer to slumber. Begging to escape, just one last time before I must watch a loved one die. 

He will be three, this is not something I am used to. Fanciful and carefree, so much so simple, but now what? I can't find an answer. I can't find an outlet. Everything is collapsing everywhere I go. There is no way to contain anything anymore. The cup is too small, its seams far too weak. I fancy myself blind though I see clearer all the time. Where do I go from here? I can't say. Though I never could, until now it never really mattered. 

Don't worry mama, I will be home soon.

Equatorial Aspirations

My heart is still beating. A miracle, considering the current collection of escapades that have conspired to form my reality. I am far from family yet close to home. Facebook disabled and forests await. I survived the onslaught of fear mongering that is TSA, avoided the "worst flu season" in years, all the while skirting the nurse that is trying to convince me that vaccines are a good idea.

The veil of verisimilitude that is the American Dream has lost all semblance of opacity. It no longer casts so much as the slightest shade upon the playing field of my reality. Cleanse, purge, redirect. Capitalism, consumerism and patriarchy are the childish things which I have put away. Elemental building blocks, once a construction of cages, have collapsed upon themselves under the pressure of their own gravity. Through the sludge of their licentiousness, they gurgle and try to scream that its mine.

Today I write, waiting for the sun to come and burn away the morning haze. Orosi is its own alarm clock, five AM and time to rise. Out my window lies the forest slope, a deep green mountain calling me away from even this small town. I have a motorcycle now, my personal escape pod, my chariot, waiting to carry me to the mountainside. Registration, headlight and a new back tire and she'll be as good as new.

It's another beautiful day in Costa Rica.

There is nothing left for Black Rock

My life of 2012 had been completely taken over by Camp Occuplaya N:OW and the promise of dust filled everything. Who would have thought helping put a theme camp together could be so much work?

My main contribution was a small art installation for our camp, the N:OW Clock. The clock was 4 by 8 foot digital timeless-piece, illuminated by green LEDs that attempted to tell us everything but the time. Most often it just said N:OW.

Each clock digit is made from seven "bits" that are powered by a 12v car battery charger and actuated via an Arduino MEGA 2560 Board. The clock requires 28 outputs of the controller to automate the entirety of the clock, each output actuating a TIP-120 transistor ( these act like a relay ) and sending power to the individual bits. I am able to write all the numbers and most letters of the alphabet.

Power consumption was the main issue, but was solved by running the entire piece off of a small Colman generator.

It all seemed so important at the time. Although I had a great time, there is a thorn stuck somewhere in these kings robes. Friends were made and lost. Tempers tested and characters cultivated culminated only in an all purveying disdain for the burner community.

Last year I was the most jaded virgin, this year the crustiest customer. Looking around all I saw were sparkle ponies and frat boys. There was MOOP everywhere. A wise friend told me that if we spent half the time and money improving our communities that we spend on Burning Man we wouldn't need Burning Man. How true that is.

Burning Man is dead, it has become The Man, cloaked in a phony shell of the idealism that it once was.  Burning things away does not "leave no trace", we learned that long ago. Don't get me wrong, I love fire as much as the next guy, I just see through the bullshit that is Burning Man. It has gone from a community outpost to corporate entity. From a gathering to a frat party.

Good by Black Rock city. Good by dust induced chemical pneumonia. Good by and good riddance.

Though don't be too surprised if you find me back on the Playa one day ;)

Season of the Spider

As very few things scare me, I find many of my interests gravitate towards the exciting, dangerous, and downright stupid. I have always been enticed by heights and claws and creepy crawlies, fangs and legs, eyes and wings more...

Article accepted for Vision Magazine August issue

Keep an eye out for my article "The season of the Spider" in the August 2012 edition of Vision Magazine in the Café section.

Five weeks, not enough

As could have been expected, five weeks just wasn't enough. I came down the mountain on Tuesday, planning on getting my flight back to the US. I decided, by way of coin toss, to stay for another week or two. I still need to call the airline and see when they can reschedule my ticket for.

Things are coming along quite well even though it has been raining quite a bit. I am hoping to get more of my house's foundation done before I leave, so we will see how that ends up working out. The farm is such an amazing place, it's really hard to leave it. I haven't even missed surfing.

Ah, Costa Rica... I will be living here full time one day... but not yet. Back to Cali soon for some intensive gardening and money saving. Life is good <3