Homely man with horses; two through the Window Metro Studies; I rush to Anchorage airport post office, then meet a man who wants whiskey

It is 1:38 AM and I am just now sitting down to do this blog. This is because I have been busy all day preparing the proposal that I mentioned yesterday. There were a few other little things that I had to attend to - emails to answer, pro-bono photo orders to postpone - that kind of thing. But basically, the day was given entirely to the proposal.

As for this image, it is a picture of a holdover from yesterday's take. That's me on the computer screen, in a photo that Ron Mancil took of me with my camera out by the horses. Some of you may have noticed that when I include a picture taken by someone else in this blog, I first take a picture of that picture, whether it be on an iPhone, computer screen, wedding invitation or whatever.

That's because this blog is an impression of how I see the world through my camera, even when I extend that camera out somewhere and point it at something - maybe me - without actually looking through the lens.

One thing that I notice when I see a picture of myself like this is that I am going downhill fast, growing more homely and ugly every day. My mind's eye never sees me this way. When it envisions me, my mind's eye still pictures a dashing young tall guy of about 37, not a short guy headed towards old age.

But look - here's proof. I am going the way of all mankind; womankind, too. Humankind. And catkind, as we have observed in Royce.

Horsekind, too - although none of these horses look old or homely to me.

Through the Window Metro Study, #9723

Well, I did break away from my computer at 4:00, so I could go to Metro and hear at least a little bit of news on my car radio. When I got there, some of the same good-looking kids that I photographed very recently were on the other side of the window, with a newcomer. I got his name but I had forgotten my iPhone so I didn't record it and I forgot it.

So, to make him feel better about it, I just won't name anybody.

Through the Window Metro Study #3

One of Carmen's friends was there - a lady that she used to work with at Northern Air Cargo. Carmen told me her name, too, and I was certain I would remember, but I forgot.

Oddly enough, whenever I have had my iPhone with me and have actually used to it record the names of people I have photographed, I have always remembered those names - even without opening up the iPhone.

If I forget the phone again, I suppose what I should do is cup my hand to my head, speak the names into it as if I were recording and then maybe I won't forget.

The proposal had to be postmarked before midnight and the only Post Office I know of in the state of Alaska that is open until midnight is the one by the airport. I left the house about 10:15. It takes a little over an hour to drive from here to that post office, but I had give myself a little extra time, just in case somebody hit a moose or something somewhere in front of me and caused traffic to slow down.

I arrived at the Post Office just past 11:20, congratulating myself on making it with time to spare. I had planned to put the package in a priority mail envelope and so had made no label at home, as I would just have to do it at the post office again, anyway.

So I got the priority envelope and then pulled out my packet to get the mailing address off the application materials.

Oh no! Even though I was certain it was, the address was not printed anywhere on the application materials. The logo was, but not the address.

Aha! This time, I had my iPhone with me!

I pulled it out, logged onto the net and quickly found the address.

I then got into the line, which was long and slow, as it always it as this post office just before midnight.

Oh, my goodness! Look at this!

I have grown even more homely and ugly than I was just yesterday, when Ron photographed me with the horses.

Just proves what I said under photo #1.

Joe took the package from me and let me watch as he gave it the March 1 postmark. Joe asked that I not photograph his face, but only his hands.

So that's what I did.

I didn't have enough gas to get home, so I stopped at the Holiday Station by Merrill Field. I noticed this guy sitting by this pile of firewood and I was pretty certain that before I left, he would ask me for money.

Sure enough, just as I was putting the hose back into the pump, he got up, walked over and made his request. He and his brother had just flown in from Hawaii to take in Fur Rendezvous, he said, but they didn't have enough money left to buy whiskey. They needed some whiskey so they could enjoy Fur Rendez. 

They weren't going to start on it tonight, he said, but were going to wait until tomorrow when the events started. Then they would start drinking the whiskey.

"I'm sorry," I told him, "I don't have any cash on me at all and my bank account is down to about $100," all of which was true.

"That's okay," he said. He then went and sat back down.

Then I remembered that when I bought my coffee from Carmen with a credit card, I had seen a quarter and a penny sitting in the slot by the gear shifter.

So I opened the car door, took out the quarter and the penny, walked over and gave it to the man.

"Well, at least you're honest about needing the money for whiskey," I said. "Here's 26 cents. That's all the cash I have."

"Yes," he said. "That's the honest truth. I'm not a panhandler and I'm not homeless. Me and my brother just came all the way from Hawaii to see Fur Rendezvous and we need whiskey."

"You're lucky its warm," I said. 

Regular readers might recall how, a few days ago, I mentioned that there was a mass of cold air sitting to the north of us even as a low pressure system of warm air was spinning toward us from Hawaii.

I had hoped the cold air would win the battle and, for a time, on Saturday, it looked like it might. Then the warm front spun in and took over. The temperature when I took this picture was about 30 degrees (-1 c).

"Yeah, I'm told it gets pretty cold here this time of year," Ilya said.

"It can," I said, "a lot colder than this."

Then we shook hands and parted company.

Two postmen: one rescues me from mean, vicious, snarling, barking American Bull Dog (imagine it comparing paw notes with the pit) Metro study

On my walk, I see in the near distance - a dog!

An American Bull Dog.

Barking.

Growling.

Snarling.

Preparing to attack.

H'mmm... looks familiar... haven't we been through this before?

Like 79 times?

"I'm going to tear your head off, Picture Man!" the dog growls.

Suddenly, before she can attack, she turns, and runs, fleeing in terror, all decorum and modesty forgotten. Someone has come to my rescue. Who could it be?

"Are you okay?" I hear a voice behind me. I turn to my rescuer. It is this postman. 

"I'm fine," I say. "That's Tequilla. She doesn't mean any harm. She's just likes to put on a show."

The postman is greatly relieved.

And he is pleased to know he will be in my blog.

He will be remembered forever now.

Except for his name.

I didn't get his name.

So he will be remembered forever as, "Anonymous Postman Who Saved Legendary Wasilla Blogger From Bluff Attack by Sweatheart Barking Bull Dog Named Tequilla."

The Postman drives away and I walk on. Tequilla relaunches the attack, sneaking loudly up from behind.

She stops, pretending with satisfaction that she has done her job and has frightened me away.

Well, once again, our little town's most famous, self-proclaimed, pit bull has managed to dominate national news stories of the past few days. She should get together with this character. They could write notes upon their paws and then stage a barking and growling contest.

"Woof! Woof!" it would be written on the paw of the American Bull dog.

"Bark! Bark!" the Pit Bull's paw would read.

Later, at the usual time, I drive to Metro Cafe, where I come upon a second postman, John. He agrees to pose for, Through the Metro Cafe Window, Study #2.

Certainly, there have been many more images than one already completed in this amazing study, but every study must have a #2. This is my #2.

After we finish the shoot and John leaves, Carmen tells me that more and more postmen are taking their breaks at the Metro Cafe.

"They're really good people," she says. She is glad they have found her.

The school bus drivers, however, just drive right on by during their breaks. "They have a three hour break and they don't even stop," she laments.

C'mon, school bus drivers. Stop at Metro Cafe and get a coffee. 

You won't be sorry.

And you might wind up in one of my famous studies.

Then you, too, can be remembered forever.