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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
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The Great Little Hunter
Pinspired Philippines, 2022
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The Boy The Girl
The Rat The Rabbit
and the Last Magic Days
Chapbook, 2018
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Republic of Carnage:
Three Horror Stories
For the Way We Live Now
Chapbook, 2018
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Bamboo Girls:
Stories and Poems
From a Forgotten Life
Ateneo de Naga University Press, 2018
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Don't Tell Anyone:
Literary Smut
With Shakira Andrea Sison
Pride Press / Anvil Publishing, 2017
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Cupful of Anger,
Bottle Full of Smoke:
The Stories of
Jose V. Montebon Jr.
Silliman Writers Series, 2017
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First Sight of Snow
and Other Stories
Encounters Chapbook Series
Et Al Books, 2014
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Celebration: An Anthology to Commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Silliman University National Writers Workshop
Sands and Coral, 2011-2013
Silliman University, 2013
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Handulantaw: Celebrating 50 Years of Culture and the Arts in Silliman
Tao Foundation and Silliman University Cultural Affairs Committee, 2013
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Inday Goes About Her Day
Locsin Books, 2012
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Beautiful Accidents: Stories
University of the Philippines Press, 2011
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Heartbreak & Magic: Stories of Fantasy and Horror
Anvil, 2011
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Old Movies and Other Stories
National Commission for Culture
and the Arts, 2006
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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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© 2002-2021
IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Monday, November 06, 2017
9:00 PM |
Reflections on Film Music
Listening to film soundtracks again. The musical scores, specifically. I haven’t done this in a while, years in fact. Here’s the great violinist Itzhak Perlman playing the theme from John William’s score for
Schindler's List. It’s impossible not to be moved by this. And yet, at the back of my head, I cannot help but think: Is it all right to swoon, to be so moved, by music that is, in reality, a dirge for six million dead?
* * *
The music of Rachel Portman is so underrated.
* * *
I am convinced Hans Zimmer’s “Time” from the score of
Inception is a musical piece of towering beauty. Seven years hence, it’s hypnotic hold remains, and relentlessly so. It starts quietly, like one settling to sleep, and in the course of unfolding, crescendos in echoes of the same musical beat -- but bigger, more urgent, like a dream that grows and grows. And then, just when you think there is no peak to this, just a continuation of unfettered dreamful longing, it settles back down again and dives into the simplicity of piano keys tinkling, a thread of violin to complete a sound of melancholy. And then it ends in a shattered note. Like one waking up, remembering the wisps of a dream, and stupefied by the bright morning sunlight greeting our waking eyes.
Labels: film, life, music
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