Durham, It's Not For Everyone

Of the three towns [Carrboro, Chapel Hill, Durham] I've lived in since moving to NC ten and half years ago, none are as urbanly, edgy, gritty, dangerously I-barely-give-a-shit kind of cool as Durham.

Carrboro is arty but a bit weird, like your aunt who does full moon ceremonies in the back yard and reads tarot cards. Poor old Chapel Hill wants to be hip, but falls flat. It's staid, starchy, and makes me think of bow-ties and suspenders.

Raleigh is too big and spread out to be cool, although they try desperately. Their little acorn is so... cute. Whatev Raleigh. We've got a MFing BULL, bitches.

Ten years ago, Durham was very different. Downtown was non-existent; boarded up buildings, zero people walking around. Now, all times of the day and night, people are out walking, shopping, eating.
(The New York Times listed Durham as one of four domestic locations in its compilation of “The 41 Places to Go in 2011,”) 

Here's a tasty article on the evolution of Durham's local food culture. Rough around the edges, and proud of it. Keep it dirty Durham.

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Gin Wigmore's "Black Sheep":

I Don't Know

What to call this post.

I'm in the middle of a major "meh" fest with myself. Feeling dissatisfied, sort of, and stuck, sort of, and yet comfortable, and on top of that, not having a clue what to do different.

Maybe it's part of grieving.

Maybe it's just part of me. The struggle to "find" myself.
(My mother in her demented wisdom would have said, "You're right here.")

"Nobody can be exactly like me. Sometimes even I have trouble doing it." -- Tallulah Bankhead




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Anyway.
I "found" myself in Carrboro on Friday to get my car serviced at the always terrific Auto Logic.
Carrboro was the first town I lived in when I moved to NC and it has that special first-town place in my heart.

I sat outside Weaver Street Market enjoying a coffee and Dwell magazine while Auto Logic did their magic:

This was inside:

The morning was hazy, a bit cool.
Walking over, I saw things I hadn't seen before. Like this fountain:

And these flowers:

And this lovely scene across Weaver Street as I thought about thin women with bearded men who smiled at me inside when I got coffee and seemed chagrined when they saw me outside and the thin woman was next to them:

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"Hells Bells" by Cary Ann Hearst: