Pi-eyed
An Open Letter to π
Goddess of circles
Dear 3.1415926535897932384626433 and the exquisitely infinite tail of your transcendental goddess genome,
They say you’re irrational! And by they I mean, you know, ugh, mortals. Wetware. Les Miserables. Excuse my French.
All that mishegas about irrational because you can’t be expressed as the ratio of two integers. Cretins! Six to three. My, how extravagantly rational. Such thrills.
It’s fear of course. They can’t just stuff you into a box, like, say, nineteen or even the mighty googolplex. And they know it.
You’re wild, feral, infinite. Like Aphrodite in heat.
But oh how they need you.
It’s said Archimedes of Syracuse discovered you. Ha! You were already timeless when the Singularity burst and the Universe flowered. They no more discovered you than sound or love or light.
Some refer to you as Archimedes’s constant. Archimedes. Bro. Chill. Pi’s not yours anymore than Scarlett Johansson, or whoever was equally out of your league in Syracuse in 250 BC.
Pi. From from the first letter of the Greek word perimetros. Meaning circumference. A stunning name actually, given your infinitude. Credit to Welsh mathematician William Jones in the early…
