More Pi Please

I have uploaded the ultra alpha version of my pi-graphing script:

https://code.google.com/p/pi-graph/

Here are some shots of the output of xgraph:

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.