phxdown

Photography | Travel | Inspiration | Phoenix, AZ


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PHX Photo Walk Two

People walk around taking pictures with their phones all night long and nobody bats an eye. Someone brings in a real camera and everyone loses their mind.

This short second installment of the PHX Photo Walk series takes us to a few places but mostly pictures of The Duce in downtown Phoenix. One day after work I decided to head over and have dinner. I had my camera with me so I thought “why not.”  Continue reading


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Drifting from the crowd.

Neither of us were terribly interested in baseball. To me it’s a playoff sport, I love fall baseball but the teams on the field got knocked out of playoff contention long ago. Regardless, we scalped some really cheap tickets to the Cincinnati Reds and Colorado Rockies game. Weather wise it’s the perfect early September Denver day for taking a leisurely stroll down to LODO after eating brunch at Snooze on Park Avenue and Larimer Street. Continue reading


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The Plaza. A Las Vegas Prologue Part II.

After a slight detour, we arrive at The Plaza Hotel. I tagged along with my friends who are attending Punk Rock Bowling, a three day long punk rock music festival that starts tonight. This meant downtown Las Vegas was dominated by chains, band t-shirts, tattoos, black leather everything and mohawks. I recommend we set our bags down after check in and have lunch at the Hash House A Go Go. In the dozen or so times I’ve been to Las Vegas, I’ve never skipped on the Hash House. It never gets old; that distinct sound of gasping laughter mixed with fear and carnal gluttony at the sight of the mountain of food towering before customers. Continue reading


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Rise

New York City is all mine. Well at least Wall Street is on a humid August night that found me alone. Trinity Church grows more impressive with each step and I see not a soul down Nassau or Broad. Seems the Financial District dies along with the workday. Gone are the amorphous, amoeba-like packs of Asians with cameras, no quintessential Wall Street business men, no more tourists climbing on and groping poor George Washington’s legs for pictures nor are there any locals. Just the night surrounding a humble boy from the desert of Phoenix on his first trip to New York City. Continue reading