This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.
Stories and Poems
From a Forgotten Life
Ateneo de Naga University Press, 2018
Don't Tell Anyone:
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
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
Blogs I Read
IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Monday, March 09, 2009
[listening to vangelis' end title score for blade runner
Not all kinds of anger are vexations to the spirit, negative outbursts that have no place in polite society. I remember that New Testament image of Jesus rampaging in the corrupted courtyard of the temple, bellowing, knocking things over, calling the gathered throng a nest of vipers. There are some forms of anger that purifies, that knocks you off the false foundation of some static form of complacency, and slaps you with the delicious truth you may have refused to acknowledge for the longest time. That "truth" might have been there all along, an answer that has been calling your attention, but that you have refused to even look at it, or see if it feels right. As to why not
, who knows? Maybe because we are often cowards, and loves to bask in the artificial comfort of false conclusions.
I avoided a potential dramatic situation in the gym today.
When I walked away, unable to even set foot in the gym's grey confines, I was surprised at feeling a little angry. Surprised because I knew I was bound to stumble on them sooner or later. But I knew I wasn't prepared -- yet
-- to make nice chitchat, and pretend it didn't have to be awkward.
Because it is still
And I felt even angrier when I sat down in Don Atilano to relax with my favorite Dumaguete coffee, opened my Facebook, statused subtly about my predicament -- and somebody else of the same stature in my life messaged me, and joked that I was being ... a drama queen
Did I need that? Did I need this kind of afternoon, from the both of them?
I tell you, Dumaguete is not big enough for me and my past.
Labels: life, rants
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