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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, February 05, 2008
1:20 PM |
And Suddenly, Summer
There are certainly winter chills in China now, and elsewhere, the cold has just began to wreck havoc on the coldest month of the year -- but suddenly the first day of summer has arrived in Dumaguete. I was leaving the Audio Visual Theater after Myrna Pena-Reyes' most insightful lecture this morning on the writing and reading of modern poetry, when I sensed something both different and familiar: I felt the sun tripping on my skin in that most gentle of nipping absent for most of the year, but becomes a cocoon of sorts at the height of Maytime. I'm not talking about your regular, ordinary hot day where the sun is merely content with its ruthless campaign to burn everything: the sun
becomes poetry during summer days in Dumaguete, and its shine has its own flavor only the true native can discern: the heat is of an underwhelming sort, something that comes as an embrace rather than an oppression; there is a certain stillness everywhere that engulfs -- but not entirely devours -- everybody into a sweet kind of narcolepsy; and the slant of the sunlight on everything gives the whole city a sepia glow. Today is the first day of such manifestations. And I think: what a great day to be alive, in Dumaguete, with that promise of summer just around the bend.
Labels: dumaguete, life
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