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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
Wednesday, August 08, 2018
It just occurred to me that the reason why a significant number of my stories are of the confessional type -- quite autobiographical, I must admit -- is that I have never learned to properly open up to people without getting dashed by the disappointment that they don't quite believe my story. I get condescending responses like, "Are you sure about this? Maybe if..." and variations of the same, which I allow them to do, in the name of skepticism and all that. But inside, I'm like, "What the f--? Here I am doing this stupid confessional thing with you, and I rarely do this, and you doubt me?" I once had an altercation with a former good friend, and when I poured my feelings out to a common friend, I was pointedly and condescendingly told, "That's your version of the story." But the last laugh was mine, because a few years later, that former friend sued that common friend, and that common friend was hunted down like a common criminal by the police and landed in jail. Why am I posting this? I don't really know. I guess it's just a realization that, for the lack of somebody to trust, I turn to the next best thing in my need for a sounding board: my stories. They're really mostly my life, fictionalized. If you believe they happened, good for you. If you don't believe they happened, I could care less; they're fiction.
Labels: life
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