
On one of these afternoons, N'Gai and I threw down in an epic chess tournament before making a pilgrimage to Electric Ladyland Studios in the Village, to pay homage to Hendrix's spirit.
The Pink House was like an underground United Nations. Chapel Hill's aspiring artists, musicians, poets, DJ's, activists, actors, writers, nudists, flutists, knuckleheads, and couch-surfers, all living together in (relative) harmony, united by their common bohemianism. Life inside the Pink House often consisted of weird shit happening at all hours, every day, it rarely stopped. And there's something about that place that won't allow the vibe to ever fully dissipate. / PinkHouseForever.org
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