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
Years and years back, when I was a single girl trying to make a place in the world as I knew it, I would buy the Sunday papers and all day I'd read it down to the last newsprint page; the ads to keep up with what's current in my field, the national headlines to be in tune with the times, the global news to keep tabs on the world's pulse. Each Sunday I would do this, and soon enough the stack of papers in the hallway was taller than me. I threw no issue away, thinking there might be a fact or a news item that I would one day need to re-examine.
But the time for verification did not come. I realized the news did not really change. Sure the names, dates, and places varied, but the content was the same: bullets kill, children starve, wars breakout, prices go up, priests molest, politicians get fat. No, nothing changed much. Except me. I began to notice that, after reading the papers I would end up in a foul mood, ready to argue issues to the death, angry at all the things that are so blatantly wrong with the world. I felt misled, betrayed, helpless.
So I stopped reading the Sunday papers.