About Brian Rosta
Hi. I’m Brian.
I write stories about aging knees, accidental enlightenment, slow travel, vending machine meltdowns, and the weird joy of becoming your dad without having kids. If it’s messy, absurd, or unexpectedly tender … I probably have a drawer full of metaphors about it.
I quit a 30-year career in education to live more deliberately, write more honestly, and yell about things like throw pillows and polite existential dread. Most of my writing lives on Medium and Substack, where I’m building a slow-traveling life with my wife and our emotionally complex Shih Tzu.
If a story made you laugh, cry, or rethink your relationship with napkins — this is where you can say thanks.
I’ll spend it on coffee, yes, but also courage. (And probably Japanese snacks.)
Thanks for reading. Thanks for supporting.
And thanks for being the kind of person who shows up for weird, honest stories.
I write stories about aging knees, accidental enlightenment, slow travel, vending machine meltdowns, and the weird joy of becoming your dad without having kids. If it’s messy, absurd, or unexpectedly tender … I probably have a drawer full of metaphors about it.
I quit a 30-year career in education to live more deliberately, write more honestly, and yell about things like throw pillows and polite existential dread. Most of my writing lives on Medium and Substack, where I’m building a slow-traveling life with my wife and our emotionally complex Shih Tzu.
If a story made you laugh, cry, or rethink your relationship with napkins — this is where you can say thanks.
I’ll spend it on coffee, yes, but also courage. (And probably Japanese snacks.)
Thanks for reading. Thanks for supporting.
And thanks for being the kind of person who shows up for weird, honest stories.
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