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text | poetry, text | wondering

AI’s Overfitting, Noise, Thresholds, and… are we alone in the universe?



Noise as beauty.

A tache de beauté on the model’s face, located on the top right, above the curvature of the lipping graph, unfitting the correlation yet, necessarily there.

If included in an artificial neural network, it is undesirably over-fitted. it is the outcast, the stain, confusing the learning. It is the anecdotal clouding of the generalization.

To fit is to overfit, as is ripe to over-ripe. Yet,…

…what about the cheese, the wine, the alcoholic fruit, touching the beauty of a calculated time? What of the fertility of the germ digested?

what of the wrinkles and ripples given substance to life and to relationship with experience unfitting the dances of the spheres?

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what of that ripple of life, as a tache of the universe; a noise of a germing of beginnings in galaxies otherwise void of it; as a baby’s skin void of experience?

Is its novelty worthwhile the read in ambiguity of meaning, without the noise of the intrigue surrounding its essential patterns to come?

is the novelty of life, the germ of patterns emerging from it, as noise onto the pattern of physics as an overtone onto cosmic springs, vibrating?

The universe’s babbling.

we are not alone: we are with life, beyond the learn’ed curvatures.

therein lies the pattern of the disorganized, the cast-out from the star’s dust, as a noise of an escaping parabolic sphere.

text | poetry

Stay-home Dad with Office benefits

I am a stay-home dad who goes to work to make ends meet.

I am in my office from about 7AM until about 6:45PM.

I am alone in that office. The times I speak are when I say good morning to that reoccurring individual around the water-filter; you know, the office-dweller’s version of an elephant’s drinking hole in the Savannah. The water-filter dispenser is way down the hall, strategically positioned, right outside the toilets.

The solitude allows me to imagine exercising a yoga pose on the yoga mat that is collecting dust in the corner of my office.

The sounds of air-conditioners are at times surprisingly interrupted by a honking horn entering the room through the open window or by the sound of a paper shredder or maybe a receipt printer down that same window-less hall.

I don’t do lunch. Previously, I would have an 8-minute salad and at times indulged in finishing an 18-minute TEDtalk during and beyond my time of eating. At times I would enrich my food intake experience with a good half a liter of water-diluted protein powder. I don’t do that anymore.

I wake up at 3:30AM and go to sleep at about 10PM. Nights are interrupted by children or pets alike.

In weekends I stay home. I don’t engage in number painting yet. I study Spanish instead, via a little APP on my phone. I have my home , in an apartment building, during the weekends and some moments in the morning and evenings, in the glorious land of China.

To get those weekends at home, I negotiate uninterruptedly and really hard with my superior, the owner of the company. It made me labeled as not caring enough about the company. After all, the company is not covering my social insurance, pension nor other basics. No, I don’t feel disgruntled. I have no right to feel so, pampered as I am. As a creative entrepreneurial-spirit in disguise, I am after all a stay-home dad in an exotic far-far-away land.

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Content, I am.

No, I don’t need all of the perks, taps on the back or other professional acknowledgements. Yet, I do need my weekends to do the laundry and other chores and, yes, watch the kids. In the weekends my life partner is off working. She also takes on the week for work and for covering each and every evening, with the boys and their homework routine. I love the boys. I love my life partner. What more should one want?

Staying home, being a stay-home dad, allows me to pretend to be taking care of the family while reoccurringly contemplating the 15 minute weekly meeting on Mondays. I do enjoy these meetings at our headquarters, a two or so hours away by subway. Following the meeting I am thrilled journeying back to my office space.

I used to really enjoy spending about 5 hours every Monday on the subway. I am rich with imagination during and outside those rides.

The thought of these rides still echoes the memory of the annual holidays my children and wife do have, and the duration of their flight to Europe. I have been told that those flights are only slightly longer in duration than my ride on the subway.

I used to take that ride daily. Now only on Mondays. Now I spend a large sum of money on a taxi ride to get there. I do get there, I arrive before any one else does or any other car clogs up the roads. In this way I get there, to my beloved team, much faster. Now it increases my carbon footprint, except when I enjoy the thrill of being in an electric taxi! Oh, the excitements of being who I am and doing what I do. I am going places!

It’s all about being a modern and caring man; a stay-home dad, with office benefits.