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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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Thursday, June 02, 2005

entry arrow10:38 PM | Terrible, Delicious Secrets

I stumbled on this in Veronica Montes's blog, and she is right. This is extremely addicting, in a voyeuristic kind of way.

Secrets -- especially anonymous ones, in postcard-size, and all done up in tinsel and color and cut-outs and what-not -- are fascinating because they strip all of us to our barest selves, down to our darkest sides that I think make us so much more human because they do not deny the animal within us. Animals that secretly loathe, that secretly pine for contraband dreams, that secretly hope beyond all the odds, that secretly hate and murder in our daytime fantasies, that secretly wish we are somewhere else and not here.







I'm wishing there's a book on this soon. The New York Times' Sarah Boxer writes:

One odd thing about PostSecret is that there's a real disconnection between what the confessions are and what the readers think they are. One reader from Texas wrote, "Thank you so much for building a window into so many souls, even if it only shines light on the darkest part." A reader in Australia wrote: "Each is a silent prayer of hope, love, fear, joy, pain, sorrow, guilt, happiness, hatred, confidence, strength, weakness and a million other things that we all share as human beings... there is no fakeness here."

No fakeness? Oh, but there is. And it is the fakeness, the artifice and the performance that make this confessional worth peeking at. The secret sharers here aren't mindless flashers but practiced strippers. They don't want to get rid of their secrets. They love them. They arrange them. They tend them. They turn them into fetishes. And that's the secret of PostSecret. It isn't really a true confessional after all. It is a piece of collaborative art.


What's your deadliest secret? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.

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