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
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
So this is how it feels like.
There is a slight chill to this December morning, although I can sense the sun trying to break through the clouds. I hope it does not succeed too much. I like it this way: a day, not cast in grey, but in the sheen of nippiness that makes startling colors of ordinary hues. I can see, for example, a purple flower outside my window as I write this. I can almost smell its purpleness, or feel it in my tongue like fireworks. Of course, the frosted glass jalousies that make up my window and the concrete balcony that the owners of this apartment has installed right above it, can only give me a shadowed, slanted, and obscured view of the outside. Nevertheless. I still can see that everything is green outside in the verdant way that chill brings.
A while ago, I was dancing to Madonna's "Like It or Not" in the solitariness of this place. It struck me, in the middle of gyration, that it has been a while since I danced like that, in solo, like a bird in happy flight.
And so the rest of the morning unfurls. Soon, it will be the afternoon. There are plans, of course. I will do them in due course. But first, there is coffee. Then there is dancing. Then there is praying. Then there is writing. Then there is breathing in and out, mindful that there is still the quagmire of the year to deal with. But it is all perfectly fine.
So this is how it feels like. Beginning again. It's like learning how to walk after a paralysis. It's all so beautiful.
 This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
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