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
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Blogs I Read
IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Sunday, September 06, 2009
6:08 PM |
More Than This...
[a piece of rambling fiction, or whatever it is you call my life
Sometimes when you least expect it -- say, in the middle of a perfect and slow Sunday afternoon while you're having coffee by your lonesome, staring out a bay window to the blue sea in the quiet distance -- you get a small quickening in the back of your head that jolts you. Today, it is this thought: why do we sometimes insist on looking for diamonds in a sty?
Or this: I have learned not to ask for much of anything, knowing full well the answer will be "no" -- but you seem to have perfected the art of making me feel like a piece of lint you can easily throw away. It's needless cruelty, something I don't think I deserve. Am I a lint? (And in my saddest days, I do think that maybe I am.)I am better than this
, I keep telling myself. And yet I do nothing about it. And yet I settle for less. And lesser. And lesser. I have lived on the short-lived bouts of happiness I get whenever you're around -- and for the most part, that is enough for me. It is what I asked for, anyway. And yet...
It comes down to this: it's heartbreaking to know the makeup of your own tragedy, and let it just come to you anyway.I am better than this.
Sometimes I fool myself into thinking that maybe you will learn to appreciate what I am in your life. But that's foolish talk. Nobody really learns anything.I am better than this.
Sometimes I convince myself that you will learn that the closet you hide in is still transparent. But that's foolish talk. You will still find the denial a comfort.I am better than this.
Labels: life, love
 This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
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