Here's a piece I wrote about when I burnt myself falling down the stairs with a big pot of hot grease.

September Rain

My feet betray me
as grease-slicked boot meets rain-covered stair

They reach for the sky
and leave me
to my own devices.

My ass seeks support
and finds it in the form of a wet step.

The grease flies
upwards
and comes down
like a harsh rain full of hate.

Where it falls it makes slick
where it falls it ravages.

Soaking through clothes
and kissing the flesh underneath

kissing with pain.

Sliding down into a grease-slicked boot and making the inside grease-slicked
grease-slicked and hot.

I
can’t
control
the
screams.

My First Negative Food Review

I love food. I've never had to write a bad review before but my experience at this place really bummed me out.

Here's the review..

The Annona Bistro located at 2643 South Kinnickinnic Avenue in downtown Bayview is a newer place, just opening in the last year. My wife and I stopped in the other night in an effort to try something new. We may stop trying new things.

I had never been in Annona before and as I entered I was immediately impressed by how many tables they were able to get into such a small place. Some may say it makes the place look cluttered and they may be right. After a few minutes someone directed us to a table in back. As we made our way to the table we passed display cases showcasing the different sandwiches and fresh from the box deserts and a sign that advertised the soup of the day as Cheddar Broccoli.

Perusing the menu, which can be found on their website at annonabistro.com, they specialize in food with a Mediterranean flair. Some of their entrees sounded good, but my wife and I decided to have the soup and sandwich combo, as we were both hungry for some good Cheddar Broccoli soup and one of the delicious looking sandwiches we had seen on our way in. The very friendly waitress took our order and as we waited I perused the drink list. Apparently besides carrying the very good coffee roasted by the Anodyne Coffee Roasting Company, Annona has a full selection of cocktails featuring 11 varieties of martinis. When our soup arrived, it was abundantly apparent that it wasn’t Cheddar Broccoli. We chased down our waitress and asked her about this. She told us that they had forgotten to change the sign and the new soup was Curry Lentil. Neither of us being fans of lentils, we asked if we could get something else. After checking in the kitchen the waitress told my wife that she would be able to get a cup of the Broccoli Cheddar for her. I decided to try the “award-winning” Sweet Potato and Black Bean Chili. When it arrived, the Broccoli Cheddar was watery, almost as if the last scrapings from the pot had been stretched for a final bowl. As for my “award-winning” chili, it was good but certainly not what I would expect to win awards. It was a pretty pedestrian chili moderately seasoned with chili powder and little else.

Our sandwiches arrived, I had gotten the Roast Beef Panini and my wife got the Italian. Normally served with a pickle spear, chips, and a red pepper aioli, however when ordered as part of the soup combo you get none of these. No chips I can understand, but no pickle seems a bit stingy. We asked if we could still get some of the aioli and our waitress went and got us some gladly. The bread used for the paninis is absolutely wonderful, it’s certainly some of the best bread I have ever eaten. I tried to tell my wife this but was drowned out by the piano player that felt that playing loudly helped make for a relaxing atmosphere. I was disappointed that my sandwich consisted of only meat, cheese and few tomatoes; I felt some red onion would really complete it. My wife’s Italian Panini had some delicious Italian meats and good provolone, but the mild giardinera was sparse; a healthy portion would have really made this a good sandwich.

I would not say that the Annona Bistro is bad. It has really good bread. However, I would not recommend it. It seems like they have a lot of good ideas that don’t seem to have been thought out completely. Most of their dishes, if improved just slightly, have the potential to be really great. Until then, you’re better off going somewhere that gets it right.

Academic Appeal

So, due to bad advice from the world's worst college advisor, I was told that I couldn't declare a Journalism major because of my GPA. UW-Milwaukee is counting my GPA from when I went there 17 years ago as part of my current GPA. They are not, however, counting my GPA from the classes I took at UW-Sheboygan. I reluctantly declared as a English major on the advice from my advisor.

I decided not to give up the fight and appealed to the former Undergraduate Advisor for the School of Journalism. Turns out the requirements regarding GPA have been changed to accommodate people with extenuating circumstances like mine. Which my advisor had told me was not the case after I brought it to her attention.

The Undergraduate Advisor has since changed jobs and he forwarded my appeal to the appropriate people. He added that he could tell that I was a good writer.

I have to admit, it is some of the best writing I've done.

Let me start out by saying I understand that current policy requires a GPA of 2.5 and grades of B or better in 101 and 201 to declare a major in the School of Journalism. While I have more than fulfilled the requirements of getting a B or better in 101 and 201, despite my diligence, there seems to be no way to bring my GPA above a 2.5. My current GPA is a result of my lack of commitment over 15 years ago. If you were to look at my cumulative GPA since I have come back to school, you would find it’s higher than the required 2.5.

For the past 17 years I have worked as a cook and a landscaper. I have toiled building walls with 80-pound bricks and worked in kitchens where the temperature exceeded 120 degrees. I am not looking for a free pass here, I am just asking for a chance. I have always enjoyed writing; I feel it’s something that I am good at and something that I would like to build a career on. I have also learned that journalism is not only a way to make money through writing, but also a way in which to help your fellow man. I have seen countless journalists bring light to corruption, wrongdoing, and how the system fails the common man. My dream was to emulate these people, to become a person that could use my skills and knowledge to make the world a better place.

However, the current criteria dictate that a GPA of 2.5 is required to become a Journalism Major. The reasoning behind this decision was to ensure that students would be able to satisfactorily complete the work of upper level courses. I believe that I could complete this work, but because of a GPA from 17 years ago I will not get the chance. Despite the fact that in 17 years I have learned the value of commitment, dedication and hard work, the School of Journalism does not believe that I have the level of competence necessary to complete a course of studies resulting in a degree. I feel that this is unfair and that this policy by the School of Journalism is dehumanizing. This policy reduces me to just another number, not a person with dreams to build a life for my family and to help make the world a better place.

I don’t deny the fact that rules need to be made in order to ensure that students are up to the task and able to complete the requirements for their degree. I just feel that in my case the rules don’t work. They look at the numbers on a transcript, not at the person. They fail the individual and I thought that was the antithesis of journalism.

All I want is a chance.

7 8 9

Vocal Log: Deep Space Expedition

I awoke to a grisly sight. Apparently, there was a malfunction with the hibernation pods. Pods One through Six suffered a massive power loss, there were no survivors. Apparently this also affected Pod Seven and its occupant. I don’t know how long Seven was awake, although it seems that he has regressed to a near feral state. I was awoken by the normal procedures. When I regained my senses, I saw that Seven had broken into Nine’s Pod while they were still in hibernation. Seven ate Nine. And now I fear he’s…

No more entries.

Poetry

We had to write a piece of prose poetry based on a picture we chose at random. Here are my results.

Dumb Bunny

“It’s a great plan.”

It’s a horrible plan.

Everything Adam tells me carries with it a brown taint of stupid. His words ooze into my head and pollute with a dirty fog. My head hurts. My empty stomach hurts more.

We only get half a block.

The truck was broken.

Adam’s pink fist slams against the dash

again

and again.

Pathetic man sobs

“Not fair.”

“Get out of the truck.”

“Not fair.”

Hands grab and pull. Concrete kisses face. A tiny piece of something jabs and presses against a temple. A boot, tight-laced and brutal, presses against the other.

The Death of Boris

The Last Ride

When I got out of work, his tire was flat. I changed it and we went home. A day later I took Boris to Sears to get a new set of tires. They told me that the spring was shot and would cost about $3000 to fix.

I asked if I could get back home.

They said maybe.

Boris and I drove home slowly. He didn't know it was the last ride.

Names
Apologies to Russian Peasants

My good friend Rob has a habit of naming things. I'm Neckbone. Our friend from Green Bay is Kid Ashwaubenon. He named my 1996 Ford Taurus, Boris.

Strangely enough, Boris seemed to take on a personality because of his name.

Like a Russian peasant he was:

• Loyal
• Dependable
• A bit smelly
  

He was Boris.

Hard to Say Goodbye

Boris sits in the driveway now. I find myself having a hard time calling my uncle to come and tow Boris away. Every time I walk to the alley I feel like Boris is asking me when we're going to go for a ride.

I don't have the heart to tell him that we're not.

Squirrels 1 Rob 0

Why I hate Summer Reason #326

Summer is not my favorite season. It's hot, work is busier, and don't even get me started on humidity. One nice thing you can do in Summer, though, is grow things. And I don't just mean the mold on the dishes you leave in the sink for an extra day, I mean delicious fresh vegetables and the like. This year on Memorial Day weekend, my beautiful bride-to-be and I went to Home Depot and bought some plants. She got flowers, I got a green pepper plant, a jalapeño plant, and two tomato plants. By the beginning of July I had picked my first jalapeño and I had a green pepper nearly ready for harvest and some green tomatoes.

The Mystery Unfolds

One of my tomatoes disappeared, I wasn't overally concerned, it was just one out of many. The next day I found a green tomato half chewed up and lying on the ground. I had seen the squirrels eying up my plants and knew they were the culprits. I picked my green pepper and ate it.

A Vacation Ruined

One particular tomato was getting big and inching towards shades of pink on it's way to red. I decided that my upcoming 5 days off in a row, a mini-vacation if you will, would be the perfect time to harvest the tomato and make it a part of a delicious BLT. On the first day of vacation my beautiful betrothed called me and asked if I had eaten my BLT. I hadn't and decided to go out and harvest the tomato.

It was gone.

I had seen it earlier in the day, hanging there all red and presumably full of juicy goodness. But now it was gone. I noticed a green tomato with bite marks in it still on the vine. Upon closer examination I realized all the tiny buds had disappeared as well.

I could almost feel the mocking gaze of the well-fed squirrels.. mocking me.

"You win this round squirrels. Enjoy your victory for it will be your last." ANd with that I went inside and had a tuna salad sandwich.