Category: fiction find

Lovely title, even lovelier story.

“Until We Are Naked Again Beneath the Mute Witness of Stars” by Berrien C. Henderson

 

Which one? There were plenty. The old road map was slippery like those fireflies. He banked, then soared into the outer dark, one star being just as good as another. They flickered and winked for eons and parsecs and light years. They were all of them bedamned and complicit in their silence (and he supposed he had it coming) like so many absent friend and echoes of conversations fading down the avenues of the mind.

*

On my reading list: Tana French’s Faithful Place.

On my mind: Asset management. And the fact that I increased my deposits to the company coop, so beginning April it’s going to feel like I’m not earning anything. ACK! Yep, growing older by the day. Haha. But at least I’m doing so responsibly.

pieces from spindle

“Jars” by Fidelis Tan

Intriguing opening paragraph, predictable plot, but I was hooked and I read the whole thing.

(The thing with online fiction is you often read it while connected to the internet. So many distractions! So if you have a story that’s interesting enough to read and finish, then it’s worth sharing, I think.)

I also liked:

“What the Chicken Knows (Or, The Eight Stages of Grief)” by Maria Pia Vibar Benosa

— by Petra Magno

About Spindle.

behind the veil

Leaving this here:

“Veil of Ignorance” by David Barr Kirtley

 

Cool concept, interesting read. Never heard of the thought experiment “veil of ignorance” before reading this story, so thank you Mr. Kirtley for introducing me to it.

free press + further story pimpage

I love that Philippines Free Press has already updated its website. New stories/poems every week!

Some recommendations:

“The Battle of Ayala” by Glenn Diaz

“Two Poems” by Allan Justo Pastrana

the divining that doesn’t reach the ear, as all hear,
from the gut, pure animal pain instead when the car

they’re in passes by—so what of the poor pig lying
near the gutter, writhing for being alive still, the throat

slit, from where too much blood gushed,
from what seems to be the only opening, like a window

alone that you lean to, pocket of air, the middle
you once dreamed about, that is as hollow as what a body

can be made of. That no one recalls the last word. That no-
body makes a sound—

* * *

Another thing I love: that friends and fellow writers are telling me that they enjoyed “Summer Evening“, with Tin Lao saying it’s “sick, a la Inglorious Basterds/Pulp Fiction”.

Go read! /whore

food and fiction

Vegetarian siopao! Two office mates brought these to the office. I bought two for P50. They are awesome.

Speaking of awesome, check out these two short stories I recently discovered online:

Things You Don’t Know by Ian Rosales Casocot

The Depressed Person by David Foster Wallace

ghost girl by lauren beukes

Fantasy Magazine » Ghost Girl.

It’s one fast, charming read.

And oh, I just finished editing a new story. Hope I can find a home for it soon.

dec. 31 to jan. 1

I told my father not to buy firecrackers anymore for very obvious reasons, and I was glad he followed my order advice. The paper was put to bed early so I was able to take the office shuttle to Cubao and get on a bus by 6:30 p.m. When I reached home (8:30 or so) some house was blasting the neighborhood with ear-splitting music. That house turned out to be our house.

My father, who was already drunk, had set up his sound system on the terrace. Minutes later I heard my father singing. An hour later he started deejaying. No shit. “Happy New Year!” he’d shout, then he’d play an 80’s song. “Good song, good song!” At one point the volume was turned up so high my sister handed him my brother’s headphones to protect his ears. Then we closed the door to the terrace while he’s inside because we couldn’t hear ourselves think. Haha! He didn’t mind. He was bopping his head to the music when we went downstairs to drink.

My brother became quite talkative (and dizzy) after his third glass. Every now and then my father would come downstairs (still wearing the headphones) and practically bellow at us, saying that he loved our mother! And that my brothers will never find a woman as precious as her! And my sister and I will never find a guy as handsome as him!

Okay! Calm down!

Craziest media noche ever.

And we didn’t even have firecrackers.

* * *

Also brought home my compli copy of the Inquirer book.

* * *

The night of January 1 was time well spent with Jaykie’s family. I enjoyed the macaroni salad!

* * *

I should really take note of the stories I read online.

Fiction find

“re: The Last Man on Earth” from Expanded Horizons