ignis_glaciesque's New Writeups

February 7, 2010 (person)

2010-02-07T10:27:58Z

Dear Future Self, twenty years from now, wherever you may be,

Hi there. It would appear you have me at a disadvantage, since you know me, but I don't know you. To you, I am a little brother. To me, though, you are a dimly-recognized stranger, one of those faces I'm sure I've seen somewhere before, and the name's on the tip of my tongue, but I still can't remember where I met you. I feel proper introductions are in order, but since there's no one around, we might as well dispense with protocol and get comfy. I'll bring the beer.

I'm writing to you from the wee hours of insomnia, and since we've been an insomniac all our life, it wouldn't surprise me if you were still up at this hour. That is, if you're still alive. I'm sure you are. Remember how I made that chilling prediction that we would die at age 76? Probably knocked it down a few years by the smoking, but probably brought it back up by quitting meat and high-fructose corn syrup.…

February 3, 2010 (personal)

2010-02-03T01:56:26Z

Dear Past Self, circa 2002,

If you're reading this, you must've put all that free time and angst to good use, and figured out how to warp space-time from all those Time-Life books you loved to read. This must mean that I, too, know how to bend space-time, unless I managed to forget all about that in the intervening years. This wouldn't surprise me at all, actually. The more you and I learn, the more absent-minded we seem to become.

Either way, I miss you.

Do you remember how you'd lay awake nights and wish there were some way for you to get in touch with me, so I could lay out the next couple of years of life for you? You'd dream of how I could pretend to be your big brother and give you all sorts of big-brotherly advice, and reassure you that life will turn out just fine. Well, I hate to break it to you, little brother, but it's not that simple.

It's 2010. I'm 23 years old, soon to be 24. You are in 2002, and you're 15, going on 16. The problems you…

The people on the bus (personal)

2009-12-09T05:33:59Z

If you come from a place in life where all your needs are met and all your major problems are existential in nature, then riding public transportation can be a little depressing.

I live in Tampa, right on the #2 route, the busiest in the county. It's a very convenient route, shooting north-south from downtown to the University area, almost European service, right down to the basers and blue-collar unemployed. Most of the time, it's pretty uneventful. But there are times when it's like walking into a Tom Waits song. You see, the people on the bus are of a very worn-down sort. The bus is for people who can't afford to take any other means of getting from Point A to Point B, and the circumstances of socio-economic oppression take their toll over the years. It shows on their faces. People age prematurely, flowers stunted by poor soil, careless…

Honda Ruckus (thing)

2009-12-02T21:56:06Z

This ain't your hipster friends' Vespa.

The Honda Ruckus (and its brother, the Honda Zoomer) was first envisioned as an off-road vehicle. It has a sturdy frame, wide and knobby tires and an engine underneath the frame. That's about all there is to it. It's about as bare-bones as you can get and still be street-legal. It's a bunch of exposed pipes and parts with wheels. It has no body paneling, no enclosed cargo compartment, and not even a fuel gauge. If the Vespa is the Art Deco of the scooter world, then the Ruckus would be Dada.

There are many scooters that go faster or accelerate better, given the Ruckus' four-stroke engine (to meet emissions standards). I was thrilled when I managed to make a skin-blistering 41mph on a downhill stretch in my 2003 model; newer models have considerably better top-end, thanks to a higher redline and a few design changes. Despite its somewhat underpowered engine, it is one of the most reliable and efficient two-wheeled vehicles on the…

misery loves company (poetry)

2009-11-29T21:21:29Z

Some of us circle aimlessly like moths,
Buzzing bewildered around a light:
We're bound so valiantly for the moon,
But smash ourselves senseless each and every night.

Some of us are like crows perched on a wire,
Watching the world pass by down below:
Birds of a feather, we flock together,
Because it sure beats being alone.

November 25, 2009 (personal)

2009-11-26T07:16:07Z

Tonight marks the night, to the day, when my fiancee and I broke it off for good. After figuring out that an endless parade of sad attempts at finding someone to replace her was a fool's quest, I decided to go it alone for as long as it took.

Since then, I learned something. I have learned to love, without falling in love, have stripped off my armor and stopped trying to be the shining knight, and instead, decided it was better to be who I really was, stop fighting and start building.

I built a few walls, but I built a lot more bridges in the past two years. Where these bridges take me, I don't know, but I'm glad I built them all the same. They lead to shining cities, people who are not fortresses and citadels, people I can learn from. I let one into my keep, and she trashed the place. Others will at least do me the courtesy of removing their shoes before coming in.