This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.
The Boy The Girl
The Rat The Rabbit
and the Last Magic Days
Chapbook, 2018
Republic of Carnage:
Three Horror Stories
For the Way We Live Now
Chapbook, 2018
Bamboo Girls:
Stories and Poems
From a Forgotten Life
Ateneo de Naga University Press, 2018
Don't Tell Anyone:
Literary Smut
With Shakira Andrea Sison
Pride Press / Anvil Publishing, 2017
Cupful of Anger,
Bottle Full of Smoke:
The Stories of
Jose V. Montebon Jr.
Silliman Writers Series, 2017
First Sight of Snow
and Other Stories
Encounters Chapbook Series
Et Al Books, 2014
Celebration: An Anthology to Commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Silliman University National Writers Workshop
Sands and Coral, 2011-2013
Silliman University, 2013
Handulantaw: Celebrating 50 Years of Culture and the Arts in Silliman
Tao Foundation and Silliman University Cultural Affairs Committee, 2013
Inday Goes About Her Day
Locsin Books, 2012
Beautiful Accidents: Stories
University of the Philippines Press, 2011
Heartbreak & Magic: Stories of Fantasy and Horror
Anvil, 2011
Old Movies and Other Stories
National Commission for Culture
and the Arts, 2006
FutureShock Prose: An Anthology of Young Writers and New Literatures
Sands and Coral, 2003
Nominated for Best Anthology
2004 National Book Awards
... They disagree on many things, and yet they kiss in the kitchen. I know the ghosts of their past haunt them still, but I read their love letters tucked under their mattress. “My nights are cold without you,” my father writes to my then 38-year-old mother while she was away finishing her masters. Sometimes she says to me in exasperation, “I’ve given your father over two decades of my life and I think that’s enough,” but every other thing she does says a hundred years wouldn’t.
These days my father spends his Saturdays among the many fruit farms he owns in the mountains of Bohol. Sometimes he takes my mother walking under the mango trees. Sometimes she spends her Saturdays by herself at home. I think of them and wonder if we are ever really certain. Or if real love means loving one day at a time, for all the days you can manage to gather in your arms.