mikeph:

Crested Butte, 1981

mikeph:

Crested Butte, 1981

2 months ago on June 23rd, 2014 at 12:11 am | Permalink | Reblog from
mikeph:

Tim Rysdale, Crested Butte 1981

mikeph:

Tim Rysdale, Crested Butte 1981

2 months ago on June 23rd, 2014 at 12:01 am | Permalink | Reblog from

The hordes hit Denver three days before I was scheduled for liftoff. I was there. Home with my family, eating chocolate chip waffles. The first wave struck late that morning. Wild pigs with mammoth tusks and armor plating. The ground shook. The South Platte sewage flowed backward. Then the rest of the Megafauns streamed out of the mountains, as if they’d been hiding there for centuries, breeding, tripling in size. So thirsty and fast. The winged kind broke into the top floor of the CenturyLink Tower. Fifty-point elks and shaggy aardvarks nested in INVESCO Field. Horned bears with snouts shaped like ice cream scoops covered the suburbs in blood and fur. They came for my family—wife, daughter, younger daughter, youngest daughter, our fox terrier Ralph, me—but we hid in the basement. I thought we’d be fine with a barricaded door. Before dark, I went upstairs for food with Ralph on my heels. Only, he bolted through the doggy door. I found myself chasing him down the street, imagining my daughters’ streaming faces if I had to tell them I lost Ralphie. A block down, heavy grunts sounded from someone’s garage. I had to run home empty-handed. But when I came back down into the basement, arms full of consolation Fruit Roll-ups and Zebra Cakes and no dog, all I came back to was this big hole. Taken, and not even with a loud crashing I could replay in my head. Just nothing nowhere forever.

upperrubberboot:

— Alexander Lumans, from Apocalypse Now: Poems and Prose from the End of Days, which also contains stories by Margaret Atwood, Paolo Bacigalupi, Joyce Carol Oates and 33 others. Get the paperback at Amazon. (Or get the ebook: Kindle | B&N | Kobo.)

2 months ago on June 2nd, 2014 at 8:05 pm | Permalink | Reblog from

railpass:

Denver, Day One

Solo exploring in a foreign city can be difficult. You have equal chances of turning right onto a side street to find a vacant parking lot as you do, say, the house of the first female, black doctor in Colorado that has been converted into a museum celebrating the forgotten history of African American pioneers, homesteaders, and cowboys.

So, you know, that’s rad.

But that idea of chance is so very enticing, y’all. Denver is not by any means a big city. It was just my launching point for the rest of the weekend’s far more dirty and dusty activities. So that in one day of scooting my bike around I could find so much activity, interest, and culture is very impressive.

More to come from this crazy little place.

3 months ago on May 29th, 2014 at 7:54 pm | Permalink | Reblog from

(Source: rathole)

3 months ago on May 24th, 2014 at 12:23 pm | Permalink

alexainslie:

Woody Creek Cabin, Colorado

(Source: onekindesign.com)

3 months ago on May 21st, 2014 at 9:08 pm | Permalink | Reblog from
"

Walking West is a walking art perfomance by Conor McGarrigle. April 11 2014, Colfax Avenue Denver.

Walking West seeks to inscribe the virtual on the physical as it combines the physical act of walking with the ephemeral digital traces of its GPS track and the invisible actions of a satellite 400-miles above capturing the scene.

The path will be marked with a physical line as a GPS device simultaneously traces a virtual digital line along the route, the route will be captured from space by a commissioned satellite photograph.

"
4 months ago on April 12th, 2014 at 12:57 pm | Permalink | Reblog from
Menu for a special dinner by Colorado native chef Owen Clark at River Styx in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.

Menu for a special dinner by Colorado native chef Owen Clark at River Styx in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.

4 months ago on April 9th, 2014 at 10:45 am | Permalink
rcjohnso:

Denver

rcjohnso:

Denver

6 months ago on February 8th, 2014 at 11:39 pm | Permalink | Reblog from
cabinporn:

Red A-frame outside Fairplay, Colorado.
Writes contributor Scott Larson:

My dad’s cabin sits at nearly 11,000 feet and has no running water or electricity. Some of my paintings are drying in the foreground. 

cabinporn:

Red A-frame outside Fairplay, Colorado.

Writes contributor Scott Larson:

My dad’s cabin sits at nearly 11,000 feet and has no running water or electricity. Some of my paintings are drying in the foreground. 

7 months ago on January 27th, 2014 at 10:05 am | Permalink | Reblog from