Saturday, June 6, 2015

Good old electric washing machine, the one that we ain't go round here no more; Vulcan Weathervanes; Reminiscenses; Norb Blei tributes

In 1980 we edited a forerunner of the SRN called VULCAN WEATHERVANES.
It was done on a church mimeo machine.
Each of the 12 issues featured a centerfold.
The Sept. issue had the Maytag washing machine:



my lonely days
are over...

We've been missing the limburger cheese spread that you could buy
in supermarkets called MOHAWK LIMBURGER..

Limburger has inspired several SRN postings
(search 'Limburger')
as limburger was and is our favorite cheese

It was, like all limburgers, a challende to eat
and apparently the demand for the product over time fell off
and they stopped making it.

Now through a deep internet search we found that the Mohawk 
limburger brand has recommenced under a new name
Sort of like the VW went to the SRN.!

 It is available again
and is today on order to  be shipped here at the Odd Fellows.
(Note: It came; is great!)

What have you been eating?

Cheesie Reminiscenses

I received from a friend
a very manly brick of Limburger cheese.
I say manly because women usually
don't eat cheese that buzzes
and is as old-aged as mine.

This cube of cheese has an odor
Perhaps best described as that which issues
from long-unwashed underwear hems.
To eat it is to be arrested, overcome.

You cannot eat this cheese
and do anything else as a secondary activity;
your full attention is riveted to the consuming act
as though you're on a wing-walking excursion,

or shaving with an extremely sharp straight razor.
I gaze at this cheese contemplating
burying it in the yard
or eating more.  I decide to eat more.

There is an edible-if-you-dare rind
around this cheese that sweats
when it is exposed to air.  I keep my Limburger
in a tight jar once opened, and

I appreciate that this cheese
continues its critical mass build-up
even when refrigerated and stored thusly;
eating limburger reminds me of
other nasty things I 've done.

Afterwards, no amount
of hand-washing will
remove me
from the consequence of my deed,
but I can assume thoughtful poses
with my fingers near my nose
and secretly re-live it all
in blissful reverie.

[David Zep Dix]



Stevenson/Stewart interview
a forward from a friend who also loaned us the book (JUST MERCY):


The Hundred Names of Love
by Annie Lighthart

Listen Online

The children have gone to bed.
We are so tired we could fold ourselves neatly
behind our eyes and sleep mid-word, sleep standing
warm among the creatures in the barn, lean together
and sleep, forgetting each other completely in the velvet,
the forgiveness of that sleep.
Then the one small cry:
one strike of the match-head of sound:
one child’s voice:
and the hundred names of love are lit
as we rise and walk down the hall.
One hundred nights we wake like this,
wake out of our nowhere
to kneel by small beds in darkness.
One hundred flowers open in our hands,
a name for love written in each one.

"The Hundred Names of Love" by Annie Lighthart from Iron String © Airlie Press, 2015.

Raccooned esp. for KR in Germany
far from her son (s) just now


The Raccoon's grandson Mike
would try
a guy who gets up


You remember me...

at the Dix homestead, Cedar Falls Iowa
2009 Clay St, in our Indian suit
1941 and later on



coop flown
Moving on

We are advised
Writer Nor Blei's studio chicken coop revamped
or just plain vamped
has been relocated in another lasting tribute to his memory.

See the following:

and our:

For a recently posted tribute to Norb
on his post mortem website
go to: