Yesterday, I wrote another 1,277 words on "The Maltese Unicorn," and finished the opening part of the frame that, well, frames the story. An interrogation cell somewhere within the Drancy Transit Camp, just outside Paris, in October 1941. Today, I jump back to May 1935 and New York City.
Late yesterday, on our way to the market, I checked the date on the house that caught fire on Thursday (it's got a historical registry plaque). It was built in 1898. For one hundred and twelve years, that house has weathered fuck knows all, and we can only hope it weathers this fire and is soon restored.
Last night, we reinstated the tradition of Kindernacht. At some point, it sort of fell by the wayside, and lately, we find ourselves missing it. So, last night we had hot dogs and tater-tots, then watched Byron Haskin's Robinson Crusoe on Mars (1964) and Edward Ludwig's The Black Scorpion (1957). As for the former, Spooky fell in love with Mona the Monkey, and I marveled at a film that's exactly as old as me. Anyway, a perfect Kid Night double feature. Oh, and the Black Scorpion disc also included the "prehistoric sequence" from Irwin Allen's 1956 documentary, The Animal World, which I'd never seen before. Willis O'Brien and Ray Harryhausen collaborated on it, to bring to life (via stop-motion animation) several dinosaurs, including Ceratosaurus, Stegosaurus, Allosaurus, "Brontosaurus" (i.e., Apatosaurus with a misappropriated camarasaurid skull), Tyrannosaurus, and Triceratops.
Also, a thank you to Barb Moermond, for the marvelous "Ceiling Cthulhu" T-shirt that arrived day before yesterday. The package also contained a chunk of Ordovician limestone, riddled with the fossil remains of gastropods and brachiopods, from her backyard near Madison, Wisconsin. I've been able to determine it came from one of three marines facies, the Galena, Decora, or Platville formations (Middle to Late Ordovician). The rock was deposited in a shallow tropical sea, at a time (roughly 475-445 million years ago) when Wisconsin was part of Laurentia, located a short ways south of the equator. So, thanks, Barb.
Time to spank the platypus.