Brianne Hogan

brave. bawdy. decidedly not depressed.

Three of my grandparents died within seven months of each other. And I didn't even have a driver's license.

sommelier. noser. author. roxane gay fan.

Jenny Trout. Abigail Barnette. Jennifer Armintrout. Missing anyone?

I’ve decided that I no longer want to depend on an exchange of cultural consumption or “comparing lives” currency in order to feel good about myself.

The cards showed me the Tower and the Ten of Swords, which is basically bleak shit worthy of jumping off a tall building.

I sent out Christmas cards this year, which I wrote upon with an actual pen. But it wasn’t always like this.

The chin hairs were the first hint of my impending senior discounts and early-bird dinners.

From fierce bunnies to books, Sonja rocks the art world.

Last week was my imaginary ex-boyfriend's birthday. January 2, to be exact. I only know this because Facebook told me so. I had forgotten about him.