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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
Follow the Spy
Recent Crumbs
Blogs I Read
© 2002-2021
IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
On a pink CR door on the second floor of Scooby's Silliman Avenue, a graffiti in ballpen ink reads:
"Si Mr. Casocot Bayot." The first time I saw that a few months ago, I was struck by my remarkable sense of
blah. I just shrugged my shoulder and went on urinating. Because I figured, that's true
naman. Why should I get affected by other people's misplaced sense of impropriety?
Still, I had to wonder: Was it a disgruntled former student I've given a failing mark? Or an unknown enemy with too much free time and ballpen allowance? Or somebody who takes pleasure in advertising other people's private lives because their own lives have fallen flat with utter ordinariness? But I'm not sure they got to me, though, because I am definitely "out" and I make no bones about it.
And calling anybody names, I figure, is always the last resort of a desperate troglodyte. But perhaps my utter calmness springs from the memory of watching this character in Don Roos's
The Opposite of Sex played by the always under-appreciated Martin Donovan, who plays a very level-headed gay English teacher. When the film opens, he catches a couple of delinquent boys writing graffiti on the CR mirror. I don't remember what it was exactly that they wrote, but I think it was something like: "Mr. Bill Truitt is a
fagot." Of course, Mr. Truitt told the redfaced boys to get to their classroom pronto. And taking the marker they left behind, he proceeded to correct their misspelling: "Mr. Bill Truitt is a
faggot" -- like any reliable English teacher would. Then he calmly walked out of the CR. I strive to live under that example of calmness despite the sometime intolerance that surrounds me.
Labels: life, queer
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