The fleeting wisp of sunshine pulsing through my deadly opaque skin.
An essence of virtuality and too abstract to be objectified.
It can’t be described by “is a” X.
an accumulation of points,our net worth measured per centwith a present value totaled over the ages;With expected values:strictly positive or negative,bounded by loss or gain;multiplied by perfection,a capitalistic driveempowered by the forecastand stifled by the moving average
As my search terms change from top restaurants to flourless recipes,
from Skiplagged flights to book recs,
from pregames to board games,
we’re given the gift of time.
Algorithms are ironically stochastic rhythms,
the hymns of the digital revolution,
AI’s not-so practical solution,
Intel’s silicon fusion,
#include
using namespace std;
class Average {
double mine = 9.0;
string lives = “left until my ego is dead”;
int egral = 2;
Waking to the highways’ Doppler simulated waves,
the champagne shores reach a climax when I’m even with the engine.
The ambulance’s siren introduces a bursting cacophony,
Standard as in normal,
Normal as in common,
A deviation
From the norm or average.
But, when did standard become equated with excellence?
The population is normally distributed;
yet we strive to surpass the limit,
to reject our alternative;
only to never reach the critical value of our hypothesis test,
The bookshelves methodically ordered with novels in an alphanumeric Congress-style.
Order, the opposite of the chaotic festering to skim the last pages of a reading that took countless battles between author and editor to compose.