Brianne Hogan

For a long time, romantic love was an esoteric thing to me that I assumed would occur eventually, like taxes and having your clothes dry-cleaned.

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.

public speaker. author. entrepreneur. loss-to-love alchemist.

Seriously, the lady is Busy with a capital “B.”

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.

I've cried on subways from Toronto to New York. I cried bombing an interview, going to a party that I didn’t want or because my sweater was itchy.

sommelier. noser. author. roxane gay fan.

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