This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.
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
Friday, January 15, 2016
There are reasons for the radio silence. The corrective after the New Year came early, and I'm glad, the way you can only be with silver linings. The middle of January wasn't even over yet. Monday night found me reeling from a headache and a sense of unease brought on by volatile weather [the day's heat seeped into my skin], no sleep, and the stress of having to finalise my choices for the next writers workshop this summer: the descent into fever, vomitus, and the runs waylaid me until Thursday. I was being my usual bachelor self of independent means -- I prepared to self-medicate and sleep it off -- but by Tuesday night, I had expelled all that was inside of me until my insides felt raw, and despite the fact that I had no appetite, I felt a consuming hunger. I've never asked for help from anyone before, and for the first time in years, I felt alone and helpless. It took sheer willpower for me to finally call my family, and ask for help. My brother Edwin came to the rescue, and soon my mother as well. It was a powerful demonstration, for me, that at the darkest hour, blood is always thick with love. I cried.
The days between Monday and Friday brought sad tidings as well -- two reminders that life is finite and no icons (goodbye, David Bowie, goodnight Alan Rickman
) are forever -- and while I'm saddened, I'm chastened all the more to make the rest of this matter.
It's easy to forget; but be present, be kind.
 This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
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