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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
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
1:13 AM |
Things That Run Through My Head These Past Few Weeks
1. I keep remembering my
best friend telling me, "One foot behind you, Ian. One foot behind you." After Q, she has seen the worst of me in heartbreak, and can't bear another prolonged episode of utter helplessness. But how do you tell the heart to be careful? It pays no tribute to logic, and sooner lurches onto its own heedless orbit, its own acquaintance with speed. When it falls, even the accidents are beautiful.
2. It comes to me, while listening to the neighbor's radio, that all love songs do mean something: they are everything poetic that, in our lives, somehow remains unsaid -- but which we still wish to say. In my light moments when I feel the music in my bones, I think they are the soundtracks for what makes human -- the stories of how we live and love, set to the quivering rhythms that keep pace with the beating of our hearts. (Still, I say this in a time when I'm flying through the clouds. Will I still feel the same thing when I begin to plummet back to earth?)
3. This is how I measure my days: by the strangest moments I find myself smiling without me even knowing. I may be walking to class, and there's that unmistakable tugging at my cheeks. "You're smiling like you have a secret," friends sometimes tell me. That often startles me: "I am?" I say, this time grinning like there's no tomorrow. And that is when I feel the gentle curve on my lips -- and how light my chest feels. That's how I know I am all right.
4. Still, I am not sure what this is. I refuse to confine it in a box by giving it labels. I will not call it love -- because I've since found out that love is never enough. And it is too soon for even that. It is just something that feels good, that makes my happy days ever happier. But I guess we all live for this mystery -- and it pays not to question it.
Labels: life, love
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