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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.
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Bibliography
The Great Little Hunter
Pinspired Philippines, 2022
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
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© 2002-2021
IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
It has been raining for the past two days now. This is, for the most part, quite unusual for Dumaguete, which has always been given to a stormless existence, to sunny days, a city untouched by ravages of rain. We've all become strangers to the sudden cold days and the splatter of rain against the walls and the windows. I love the fact that everyday now I have to go out with a jacket and a warm shirt, and always with an umbrella -- which is a ritual so much like the things we do for fall. Joanna, yesterday, said the weather reminded her of an English day, and she is right
Life is a rainy day. On some given instances -- when the rain stops, for example, and there is only the ample cool and wondrously grey couds to hide the sun, the air kisses the skin, and calls for warmer clothes, and makes the grass greener than usual --
I adore it. This is my type of day. I have no uses for sun. For a moment, I forget this is tropical country.
Then the rain intrudes again. I have just managed to escape the bed and its prolonged invitations for sleep. I grope for my red pen: there are so many papers to check for tomorrow's school day.
Yesterday, Mark followed me around like this sweet puppy. Which I like. How fast we get used to sleeping touching somebody else's skin! This weather gets him down, however, and I can't help not smiling for a while. I want to be Clown for him, and he pretends to smile JUST to make me smile, which is sweet -- but... Then again it was also the sadness in his eyes I fell in love with. I love people with sad eyes. They look at you with such yearning...
[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
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