Character
...
I'm considering re-naming the main characters of this blog.
Robb will be the Protagonist, and I will be the Unreliable Narrator.
The Protagonist had an amazing time tide pooling. He navigated the slick, irregular terrain like a champion. There's no minimum speed for people walking around looking for interesting marine life, and he could take as many breaks as he liked. I was, not surprisingly, freaking about about the super-slick seaweed that Sheri and I had named the Lettuce of Death. Our hero never once lost his footing.
Now, here's where we get into the part of our story, where the reader begins to doubt the credibility of the narrator, and suspects the writer of a certain laziness. Think back to the last time that our Protagonist and the Narrator went out tide pooling together. Remember that cockamamie tale the Narrator told about spotting a bobcat in the middle of the afternoon? Remember that photo she claimed to have taken, which for all the reader knows, could have been plagiarized from her copy of Mammals of California? Doesn't it seem like artistic over-kill that the two characters interact with so much nature in a single outing.
As we were leaving Fitgerald Marine Reserve, I noticed a small round shape in the road, and pulled off immediately. There was a tiny baby goldfinch sitting in the middle of the road.
I shucked off my long sleeved shirt and used it to catch the wee finch. I set it under some trees, a little ways off the road. And, of course, I had to run back to the car for my camera.
Doesn't it seem a bit suspect that the Narrator always seems to be trying to save the life of some wild bird or another? What's up with that?
I'm considering re-naming the main characters of this blog.
Robb will be the Protagonist, and I will be the Unreliable Narrator.
The Protagonist had an amazing time tide pooling. He navigated the slick, irregular terrain like a champion. There's no minimum speed for people walking around looking for interesting marine life, and he could take as many breaks as he liked. I was, not surprisingly, freaking about about the super-slick seaweed that Sheri and I had named the Lettuce of Death. Our hero never once lost his footing.
Now, here's where we get into the part of our story, where the reader begins to doubt the credibility of the narrator, and suspects the writer of a certain laziness. Think back to the last time that our Protagonist and the Narrator went out tide pooling together. Remember that cockamamie tale the Narrator told about spotting a bobcat in the middle of the afternoon? Remember that photo she claimed to have taken, which for all the reader knows, could have been plagiarized from her copy of Mammals of California? Doesn't it seem like artistic over-kill that the two characters interact with so much nature in a single outing.
As we were leaving Fitgerald Marine Reserve, I noticed a small round shape in the road, and pulled off immediately. There was a tiny baby goldfinch sitting in the middle of the road.
I shucked off my long sleeved shirt and used it to catch the wee finch. I set it under some trees, a little ways off the road. And, of course, I had to run back to the car for my camera.
Doesn't it seem a bit suspect that the Narrator always seems to be trying to save the life of some wild bird or another? What's up with that?
Comments
All totally normal for a Californian, right? ;-)
Knit Wit (who's never been to California in her life and is exceedingly jealous of you and your totally legitimate wildlife sightings)
Grumpy Grinch
Annalisa
staged!!!
(hardy har har.)
I want your camera. Can't decide if I should get me a good telephoto and macro lense, or a scooter. I could save up the money I save on gas for the lenses!
So I'm going to be in Berkeley next week--the 18th through the 22nd--for my cousin's wedding. I think you met my cousin and his fiancee one night at the Regent Hizzle, back in the day. Anyway, I figure I'm flying all that way, surely I don't have to put up with my family the Whole time. Care for a drink? or a tamarind soda from the taco truck?
Odd thing--i was riding out to the port of baltimore yesterday to have a tour of the marine terminals--they're so cool--and took a rather familiar-looking road to get there. It was like deja-vu, except not a synaptic misfiring. The road looked and curved exactly like Mandela parkway, including the curve under the freeway tangle. And with the shipping cranes in the background, i coulda been in Oakland. eerie.
Beautiful photos, as usual. I'm surprised you haven't been contacted to freelance for National Geographic.