Brianne Hogan

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

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

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.

brave. bawdy. decidedly not depressed.

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

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

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.

Come, fervent readers of smart, witty blogs.

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

sommelier. noser. author. roxane gay fan.