The Weirdest Little Town In Georgia
I Can’t Spell Weird
My weird friend lives in a weird town, and for some reason, that’s exactly where I needed to be last Saturday.
Not meth-weird. Not murder-weird. Not adult-diaper weird.
The good kind of weird. The kind that helps you find your edge—the thing that makes you… you.
He’s my brand guy. A designer. A musician. A bizarre dude that can see things I can’t. And when my soul needs recalibrating, I find myself in his orbit.
Before heading to his place, I stopped at Refuge Coffee—a food truck parked outside an old gas station that now buzzes with espresso and second chances. I grabbed a blueberry muffin and iced coffee and found a somewhat comfortable chair inside with my journal.
I always journal in the morning. It’s an addiction. It helps me think. I need all the help I can get.
As I wrote, an older man with a belly said hello. I nodded back.
Then I wondered:
Where’s he from? What hell has he seen? What heaven is he hoping for?
You see, Clarkston isn’t your average Southern town.
It’s called “The Ellis Island of the South”—the most diverse square mile in America. Over 60,000 refugees. 60 languages. One tiny town, pulsing with stories from across the globe.
That’s not just weird. That’s extraordinary.
Most of the folks at the coffee shop I’ve met have been from West and Central Africa. Unique accents, bold eyes, untold stories.
I want to hear every single one.
After my coffee, I headed to my friend’s place. We filmed some content for my brand. That’s my work: pulling the thread on people’s weirdness until their story unravels into something real.
Because in a world addicted to sameness, your quirks are your currency.
Your brand isn’t just what you do. It’s who you are when you stop hiding.
Let’s get weird. The world needs it.
—Trey