All Stories

Everything we've published, newest first.

Sergio Leone turned the tired cowboy movie into the Spaghetti Western, and its poncho-wearing ghost rode all the way to our own “Adobo Western.”

Floating on the Dead Sea, ten seconds inside the Holy Sepulchre, and a rabbi’s joke about the price of a phone call to God.

Twenty-six women, none of them his: near-misses, five-second flames and unrequited muses, ending with an art student called Racer G.

A reanimated chicken, a gothic coop, a hostel room for snorers, and hammering on a hotel wall at 3 a.m. with nobody in the next room.

A Valentine’s dispatch from the pit: heartbreak playlists, actual rectal probing, the smiley of doom, and why, oooh, crap hurts.

‘It’s like a heart beating, moving inside. The cage is made of a hundred parts and it weighs less than a gram.’ The Reverso turns eighty.

Pilgrims once followed the Milky Way to Santiago. A hundred thousand a year still come, by foot, bike, bus and one donkey, now guided by GPS.

Three minutes as Ian Brown, then back to being you. Nights in the karaoke rooms of Malate, where no one ever gets over anybody.

Poets mandate their own immortality. A protege remembers Ophelia Alcantara Dimalanta, UST’s Lady Polyester, over Leonard Cohen and beer.

A commencement address for the doomed: writer’s block, Eva Longoria as a sign of the apocalypse, and one ordinary Monday that broke a heart.

A last drink at Penguin Cafe in Malate: Noli Aurillo plucking, a Rolling Stones epitaph, and thanks for all the fish crackers.

An AB Lit student who snuck out of class returns to the dark: art films, a lost girl named Joy, and a professor finally answered.