/w

23:19, July 28, 2011 (UTC)

Nine nine nine nine nine nine

& so on

Nobody’s home

20011025 was reciting. Though that’s the problem: You can never be sure

You can never be sure whether a two seven four nine five six is random. Only sure that there’s no explanation for his pin point clairvoyance

Two thousand five hundred forty nine and a half bits. It isn’t that much. With the statistical models we apply everyday to maintain linguistical aptitude, a mere two hundred words begins to exceed that limit

So where one might claim it beyond most’s capabilities, but not beyond most’s potential, one may also say it’s not

Nobody cares. Of all the things to remember, why this? A shard of infinity, rather than a shard of life. But it’s a virtue by some extent, as the rational implication that it might be enough worth memorizing is a key breaking point. A digit more, and the joke’s off. But this hollow’s gag isn’t about simply cracking a joke, it’s going all in in an act of absurdism. Juxtaposition. It’s the key. Humor is where virtues interact, again, juxtaposition. It’s that tight assembly required for pinpoint clairvoyance. The same humor which brings amusement when a simple toss ricochets and lands a bull’s eye bloody

Could always make it more versatile: remembering a bunch of random numbers, only not knowing what they’re for. Maybe tie in face recognition. See a face, all forgotten of the person besides their phone number or age or how many times they’ve been married. But then that gets into equivalence between digital information. If their name became another thing to pull out the hat, it’d begin moving more to writing about a person who happens to experience encounters with only remembering one piece of their history with whomever their meeting. Or consistently associate people with some random subsequence

But that’s one thing that keeps the eyes blank despite the pinpoint clairvoyance: Doesn’t even remember what 314159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510582097494459230781640628620899862803482534211706798214808651328230664709384460955058223172535940812848111745028410270193852110555964462294895493038196442881097566593344612847564823378678316527120190914564856692346034861045432664821339360726024914127372458700660631558817488152092096282925409171536436789259036001133053054882046652138414695194151160943305727036575959195309218611738193261179310511854807446237996274956735188575272489122793818301194912983367336244065664308602139494639522473719070217986094370277053921717629317675238467481846766940513200056812714526356082778577134275778960917363717872146844090122495343014654958537105079227968925892354201995611212902196086403441815981362977477130996051870721134999999 represents. Doesn’t even remember to say point after the opening three

This somewhat reminds me of 8’s bastardly fellow in so far as it involving poor memory alongside numerical leaning. Big whoop

Let’s get something straight: the autobiographical observations people make are a piss off. I write to get out of my head, but now I have to get into my head to predict what people are going to make of what comes out of my head. I haven’t memorized pi to Feynman’s Point. I would like to. It’s a goal. But at the moment, I’m only carrying 121 digits in my hollow. If you’d asked an hour ago, it’d’ve only been 115. Welcome aboard, 306647. I can only remember you after reminding myself who 513282 is

Yeah, so they have personality. Who doesn’t? Like anyone with personality, I mix them up. Not on their character, of course, but on their place in the whole shebang. Just recently I chided myself for thinking 148086 was 816406, whom I’d only shaken hands with six moments ago

Oh boy, oh my, I’m really not defending my case here am I? Oh sheesh, oh geez

Oh right: 768. That’s the length. Very nice. 233. Crops up rather frequently. Funny thing about frequent things: they’re not as frequent as I’d suspected. I once claimed to commonly want object.(someparam if x else otherparam) in Python, yet I couldn’t bring about the examples of such cases. I recently had such a case while poking around in C#. I grepped over my source code, and 768 appears a grand total of once. It’s more a thing to show up in calculations due to 32768, half of 65536, 216. The height of the landscape background for a game which I was going to hack together with random media given to me, but then I never got all that random media so I didn’t get to make a bunch of random hacks to hack together a game

Here’s my own interpretation of something: I think there’s a point in Feynman’s Point. That if you’re going to memorize a piece of infinity, you better get a laugh out of it. Because you’re not going to get anything else

I was never interested in memorizing digits of pi until I heard about that point. I knew 3.141. At times I’d know 3.14159. I’m sure I’d seen the 2 a couple times. I don’t remember how many digits Piscine wrote on the board in Life of Pi. I may’ve even forgotten the five a time or two. I’dn’t’ve been sure. It seemed useless: I’d always know 0% of the true value. Granted, each digit is ten times less valuable than the next, so that with that single three one already knows 90%, the following one brings them to 99%. So go on, each is just adding another nine

What’s the value of pi? It’s sure more than 3.14$

  1. I have only now recited backwards down 093844, & back again. One more digit and that’ll be one eigth of the way. Still, still playing catch up. Catch up. How’ve you been? What’s gone in since last we spoke? When’d you look so rough? Where’ve you been? Always forgetting, it becomes a useless endeavor upon meeting those you haven’t met for awhile. I wish we could skip that part next we meet

The great thing is that Feynman didn’t memorize up to this point. It’s where he would’ve liked to. He wasn’t one for memorizing, similarly citing the Einstein not knowing his telephone number joke

I was at a math seminar being told memorization was key. I disagreed, and was then hurled with questions about my telephone number and address. Now here I am, memorizing digits, remembering the slightest bits of nonsense. Haunting myself. I use to argue that it was irrelevant, but now I give warning

Yet here I am trying to reunite with 609550. Bugger gave me trouble in the past, but maybe we’ll get along this time around I can only hope so much for all the others in my past

Only Thing We Own: I can’t remember my name. Confused it with My Phrasebook’s I don’t know who I am. How tied are self identity and memory?

Took my memories out one day with the trash

& so did he

Except I collect trash

But that’s not that

/w