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Thursday, May 30th, 2019 Greetings from Carrboro, Some people’s lives are just too good to be true. Period. You know the ones. I read about them and, bit by bit, feel my native jealousy nefariously creep in. Usually I create a fantasized counter-narrative to balance the scales. Like, you know, I make Lebron James really, […]

Greetings from Carrboro, Facebook gets it. People like to connect. We watch friends’ children grow up on the other side of the country and allow that past investment of intimacy to charge those pictures with a visceral richness that almost – almost – rings true. But it is really only an echo – Narcissus’ jilted lover – that […]

Friday, April 26, 2019   Greetings from Carrboro, It’s hard not to like Oregon. If the state were an actor, it would be Paul Rudd. Am I wrong? Indubitably charming. Hip. But not too hip. Smart. But never annoying. I mean, Oregon is sort of the geographic version of a fantasy BFF. Because really most […]

Greetings from Carrboro, Sometimes English just doesn’t cut it. Nuance demands some other mot juste that feels – I don’t know – right. Take this Thursday, April 25th. Acme is having a righteous party with music and food and lots and, well, lots of rosé. But I can’t just call it a rosé party; the word “party” is way […]

Greetings from Carrboro, Miami Beach has it’s own diet. And, of course, there is that equally popular Mediterranean plan to svelte-hood. Both invoke the warm, healthy & carefree thing. (Bacon? What’s bacon?) And then there’s the ever-popular cleanse trend where universally disliked vegetables and lawn trimmings are unendingly force-fed in disguised liquid form. For the same […]

Greetings from Carrboro, Somehow Löwenbräu never inspired me. And as far as I know, my night never actually belonged to Michelob. Though I must admit to a solid stretch of college when I was enamored with drinking Bass Ale. Ok, I admit that it was the cosmopolitan air I assumed radiated from the tall, brown bottle that seduced me more […]

Greetings from Carrboro, I was intrigued. For the second day in a row, he’d set up a yard sale of sorts in the small, fenced front yard. The usual bric-a-brac. A used-that-morning toaster oven. Two wooden, hand-painted captain’s chairs. He was a large man by any standard and lounged on the front porch calling out […]