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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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Sunday, February 05, 2017

entry arrow11:59 PM | Late Night Conversation

Had my share of stimulating, intellectual conversation with a good friend tonight. I hadn't seen him in years. Totally unexpected. I was writing an article in a cafe [where else?], and he barged into my bubble with his coffee and his Brooklyn vibe. This is rare; it's quite difficult to get conversations like this in Dumaguete, to be honest. And so we commiserated about Tiny Fingers. We talked about the innate frailties of the Left, and we tried to figure out how the new world order would mean on ordinary lives. We talked about the limits of postmodern art and the end of irony, and we discussed avant garde theatre. He talked about how he hated musicals [Hamilton, Les Miserables, etc.] except The Lion King, and how he hated Wes Anderson and Lars von Trier but loved Darren Aronofsky and Christo and the undercurrent of "optimism" of Black Mirror. I talked about the "optimism" in Von Trier's Melancholia and how I loved the music of Miss Saigon but hated its story, and I talked about the hype over Marina Abramović and the necessary lightness of the films of Nora Ephron and why I have only a grudging admiration for Stephen Sondheim musicals. He talked about mountain climbing in Nepal where he pared his 30-kilo backpack bit by bit down to its barest essentials as he ascended. I talked about why melodrama is in the DNA of Filipino culture, and why I couldn't be persuaded by anyone to try scuba diving. That kind of conversation. And then midnight happened.

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