Josh's Blog - 1. May 2008

Monday, May 19, 2008

Hey guys! Welcome to my new blog. Yeah, I know, this is, what, like the third or fourth one of these that I’ve done. Well, this one is completely different. Or, as they say at Monty Python, “And, now, for something completely different.”

I’m at my dad’s.

Yeah, believe it!

Mom shipped me out here three weeks before the end of school because she had something important going on at work. She always has something important going on at work. I swear, sometimes I think she prefers work to home life. Secretly, I think she prefers work to me.

I don’t know how she swung it at school, but about two weeks ago I had a ton of schoolwork to do and when I checked out (with all my records in a big envelope) they said, “Nice to have known you, Josh.”

So, anyway here I am with Dad and all the crazy people here in Pine Corner, WI, and that’s not the West Indies in case you’re wondering and it’s not actually a corner. I’m in good ol’ Wisconsin, home of cheese, beer, crazy Lutherans, and dear old Dad.

Pine Corner isn’t much. It’s more of a junction of two dinky county roads and an old, abandoned railroad track. There are probably not more than seventy-five families around here, but there are only thirty-two buildings, including houses, in the town itself. Trust me I counted them when we used to live here. Remember that? What a total waste.

They took out the gas pump since I was last here. Imagine that, a little convenience store in the middle of nowhere WI and no gas pump. And, as I hope you remember, the convenience store doesn’t have anything more convenient than beer and snacks. No, wait, there is a toiletries and misc. section that has box matches, bug spray, and tins of Bag Balm, that’s to keep your udders and teats in good order. Hey, this is WI and you gotta know how to take care of udders and teats up here.

Yeah, Pine Corner is the ideal place to send a seventeen-year-old with time on his hands and no car to get around in. God! What am I going to do for three months?

Luckily, I like to read because we only have dial-up here. No DSL. No cable. And, for some odd reason, the satellite reception here is for the shits. You’d think satellite beams landed everywhere, but they don’t shine on Pine Corner, WI. Clear, beautiful, sunny skies and nary a satellite signal. Almost makes me want to cry. Imagine dial-up! And, get this; we’re not talking 56K dial-up either. No, this is that old slow shit that’s barely faster than snail mail. “Get used to it, Josh; we’re lucky we get 2400 baud.” That’s what Dad said.

Yeah, happy to be at my dad’s.

As you probably remember from my other blogs, Dad is a history professor at a small private college (Centrale University of Wisconsin (CUW), founded in 1847 by Theodor J. K. Centrale, formerly of Ulster County, NY) about twenty-five miles up the road in Pigeon Valley; or, is it down the road? Let’s see, up is toward the top of the map, which is North 99.999% of the time. I’ll admit there are those maps that for some odd reason don’t have North at the top and don’t have one of those compass thingies showing where North is. Go figure! Anyway, it’s up the road.

Dad got tenure last year, which is the whole point of him being here. He says in the education business—according to him it’s just a business of taking lots of money from people in return for a piece of paper with a lot of fancy writing on it—tenure is the most sought after commodity an educator can acquire. Dad’s in it for the long haul, which is okay because, honest to God (notice the capital G because, yes, I’m one of those people, too), I really, really like Pine Corner, WI, even if we don’t have DSL or cable or satellite.

Honest, I like it here.

I can hear you asking yourself why is Joshua Burk suddenly starting a new blog?

Well, next year, after I graduate from high school, I get to go back to the old country. Back to where my great-great-grandfather was born. You only get to do it, by yourself, after you turn eighteen. I guess it’s some rule they have there. Trust me this is going to be a very special year and I hope you’ll hang around while I enjoy it.

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Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Hey guys!

Sorry, I didn’t get to do an entry last night. Dad had to use the computer. Why didn’t I bring my Mac? Well, today I called Mom and left her a message to ship it here. I can’t be without it, even if I’m in Pine Corner, WI. A kid today just can’t live without a computer and, besides, Dad doesn’t want me messing with his. Thinks I might screw it up like the last time I was here.

Sheesh! Give a kid a break. I was only fourteen for God’s sake. Sure I’m smart, but how was I to know the computer manufacturer put in that specific key combination to lockup the computer? How was I to know it was going to cost over $100 to have a techie open the back and flip that switch on that specific card? What kind of cheapo computer has a switch to undisable it?

Know something else about Pine Corner? They still haven’t got cell service out here. There’s this blind spot ten miles in diameter around the center of Pine Corner. Why?

Asked Dad. Dad shrugs shoulders says, “Too many ears of corn.”

Oh, ha-ha! Funny Dad, funny. A real rib tickler, Dad.

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Thursday, May 22, 2008

Hey guys!

Guess what? I met this real cool guy. His name is Brent and he lives on the other side of town—let’s see, that’s six blocks away, yeah, six blocks, I told you Pine Corner, WI is small—with his mother and father. That’s what he calls them, Mother and Father. Come on, get them off the pedestal and call them Mom and Dad or Mommy and Daddy, but not Mother and Father. That man fucks that woman and possibly he eats her pussy and she sucks his cock. Does that sound like something a Mother and Father are going to do?

I met his mother and she is big time weird. She gave me what I’m certain is the evil eye. I was over there because Brent invited me to go swimming with him over at the high school and silly me forgot to bring something to wear in a pool. Well, yes, there is Lake Michigan, but it’s way over at Sheboygan, that’s like nearly two hours away; and there is Lake Winnebago, but that’s at least an hour away; and there’s Green Lake, but Green Lake is like green; but there is no Lake Pine Corner.

The nearest place to swim is the pool at the high school in Petawnsky, the county seat, but if you don’t have wheels, you don’t plan on bringing a swim suit. Why do they call it a swim suit when there’s only enough material to cover the vital embarrassing bits; or, at least, that’s what I wear in a swimming pool. Sure at a lake I might wear shorts, but to do laps in a pool you need “check that dude out” skimpies.

Of course, if you’re embarrassed about people seeing Nature hasn’t been nice to you, you can wear swim trunks, but they slow me down and I’m not embarrassed that Nature didn’t give me that extra inch or two. The way I figure it (because, as you all remember I was a late starter), I’ve got maybe one more year of puberty, possibly two, and I pray every night for God to nudge Nature into taking me just a little to the other side of average.

Not that I’m saying mine is short, because it isn’t. It’s a handful, actually. And, Mr. Hand and his compatriot “Lefty” Hand have more than enough fun with my Erector Set.

Luckily, Brent and I are of similar structure so he had an extra skimpy. Uh, I probably shouldn’t say this, but Brent’s kinda hot, too. He’s tall like me, too, but he fills out his skimpy much better than I do. Maybe, too well.

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Saturday, May 24, 2008

Hey guys!

Just before I left, I found out I hit six-three. (If I can be tall, why can’t I be long, too?) Mom said it was all that good Christmas food I ate at Gram’s house. My mother’s mother. I had to spend Christmas with Gram and her new husband, this little mousy guy named Harold. Mom got to go to the Bahamas and Dad was, well, Dad was in the old country. He goes every Christmas, now. I’ll be glad when I’m eighteen and off at college and don’t have to come home to an empty house for Christmas, but I’ll be here, anyway, because I get free tuition and who’s going to pass that up. Certainly not my parents.

Mom makes a gazillion as a big time CPA at this strange global company that’s so secret they don’t have a name. Well, they have a name, but I’m sworn to secrecy and I can’t tell you. And, it’s not the CIA, so get that silly idea out of your heads right now. They’re so secret they make the CIA sound like a public information agency.

Dad doesn’t make a gazillion, but he doesn’t have a house payment, drives a restored VW bug, and spends most of his time with his boyfriend. Yeah, my dad is gay.

Dad was talking to me the other night when I got here about “my problem.” He said I was still too young to decide whether to be a breeder or a waster. I just stared at him. I mean, God, just because I tell him and Mom at my fifteenth birthday that I’m gay doesn’t give him the right to come out with stuff like that. And, I told him.

He apologized, but asked if I was dating.

I was honest. I said it was none of his business who I was giving goodnight kisses to. I didn’t ask him and he shouldn’t ask me, but I know he’s seeing a guy, Bill, I think, or was it Will, from down the road a ways. Both of them picked me up at the train station in Tomah and I could see the way they looked at each other. They didn’t know it, but I saw them touch in a way that said one thing.

My dad is gay!

Can you believe it?

I wonder if Mom knows. She probably does, considering who she works for. No! It is not the CIA. Sheesh! Give a guy a break.

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Monday, May 26, 2008

Hey guys!

Went to church Sunday.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a good little boy who still goes to church. Saint Alberg RC church sits kitty-corner from the Lutheran (Wisconsin synod) church and across the street from the old United Methodist church which is now the Sunshine Temple of Praise and Adoration. By far, Saint Alberg brings in more sinners than the other two combined. Well, we sit in a little booth on Saturday and get forgiven (well, there are the penances, but it’s all memorization anyway). The Sunshiners are doomed to eternal damnation because they sin everyday of their despicable lives and the only way to salvation is healthy tithing and not hanging around with the wrong kind of people (gays, druggies, boozers, non-Christians, Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, Baptists, Arabs, Mormons, you get the idea). The Lutherans (Wisconsin synod), well, they get forgiven as a group as it is assumed they’ve already confessed their sins, but they don’t like anybody, they certainly don’t like us, and they definitely don’t like the Sunshiners.

Pine Corner is such a fun place.

Well, anyway I dressed up a little; you know put on a tie and the “good” shoes and walked the three blocks to the center of town. Father O’Shea is still here and you still can barely understand him through his Irish accent. He was at the door, welcoming parishioners, when I went in.

He gave me the weirdest look.

“Hi, Father O’Shea, you don’t remember me, but I’m Joshua Burk,” I said.

“Of course I remember you, Josh,” he said. “Why weren’t you at confession yesterday morning?”

“I forgot,” I said. “I just got here this week.”

“Living with your father, are you?”

“Yes, Father, and I’ll probably be living there when I start at CUW.”

“If you have any problems or feel the need to talk about anything, Joshua, anything, please come by the rectory.”

“Sure thing, Father.”

Yeah, like if I have a problem with Dad being gay. Well, too bad, too sad, Father O’Shea, the kid is, too. I didn’t say it, but I wanted to. God, do you hear me? I wanted to tell Father O’Shea right then and there I was gay, but there’s a time and place for everything and that wasn’t the time or the place.

I went in, did the knee bending bit, and sat down beside Brent. His parents were on the other side of him.

“This seat taken?” I asked.

“No,” Brent said.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Schneider, I hope you’re having a pleasant Sunday,” I said in my syrupiest voice.

I got the impression Brent was nervous about me being there. His mother just glared at me.

“You’re Doctor Burk’s son, aren’t you, Joshua, I believe,” Brent’s dad said, smiling. “I’m Jack and the other half here is Monica. Brent has been telling me he’s been taking you over to the high school for swimming. Do you swim back, uh, in Seattle, right?”

“Uh, no, not for school, but I volunteer at the Y,” I said.

“I don’t know if your father said so, but I’m a professor in the English department,” Jack said.

“No he didn’t.” And, I was going to have to ask why.

There weren’t a lot of people there as it was a holiday weekend.

Brent had something going on with his parents and so I came home and watched a DVD. At least Dad has a DVD player and a decent sized screen, plus a fairly large selection of movies and documentaries. Dad likes documentaries, so he has lots of those; some of them are actually interesting.

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Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Okay, you guys know I don’t blog daily, like some people I know. Besides, I’m in Pine Corner where the most exciting thing to do is going down to the convenience store and watch the beer truck unload.

Well, there is Brent. He is so laid back, you wouldn’t believe it. That kid acts like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Wish I could get up the nerve to find out if our budding friendship is just a budding friendship or if those signals he’s been sending are for real. I mean ping-ping, ping-ping, ping-ping, my gaydar is ringing in my ears every time I’m close to him. There are only so many gay affectations a guy can use without someone (me) getting the idea that just because this is the middle of nowhere WI, he can’t be like me. He’s not fem or emo, but sheesh! He’s ringing my bells and my balls!

So, after we finished swimming today and were sitting in the Dairy Stop in Petawnsky (because Pine Corner doesn’t have one) replacing the calories we burned in the pool, I said, “Brent, I’m gay.”

“Okay,” he says and goes on eating his hot fudge sundae.

Okay?

That’s all he said.

At least he didn’t say, “Find your own way home.”

But, I mean, “Okay,” isn’t the answer I was looking for. It’s rather noncommittal. So is he okay with me being gay? Or, is he okay with me being gay because he is, too? Or, is he okay with me being gay, but is telling me not to invite him over to Dad’s place for a barbecue. Or, is he okay, but really saying you’re not wearing my skimpies anymore. There are so many things locked up in just saying okay.

But, I didn’t push it. I figured if he had a problem with it I’d never see him, again. There are people like that. A lot of people like that.

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Friday, May 30, 2008

Called Mom yesterday. She shipped my Mac via truck. I won’t get it until next week. And, Dad used the computer last night.

And, last night his fella came over for steaks and beer. I invited Brent, but his parents wouldn’t let him come. Also, he hasn’t taken me swimming since I told him I was gay. Well, that answers that question. “Mother and Father won’t let me come,” sheesh what a lame excuse. Why can’t he come right out and say it, “I don’t want to have anything to do with you because you’re gay.”

Anyway, the dude’s name is Will, not Bill. Will, Bill, they are both short for William, so I get confused. It’s not like his name is Billiam and he goes by Will, but it is kinda like my friend Jack back home. Yes, he is “that” kind of friend and, yes, he’s a good kisser, too. Well, since I’ve only kissed one boy, I think he’s a good kisser. (As I’m sure most of you know I have not kissed any humans of the female persuasion, so I can’t compare Jack to anyone else, either.) Anyway, come to find out Jack is actually a John. Guess it works out that way sometimes. I suppose I could be a “Jo” if everybody didn’t call me Josh; except Gram who says Joshua (Jaw-shoo-ah). I prefer Jawsh-wah myself. Say it quick enough and the “u” disappears, thank you very much.

Anyway, Will is okay, but I don’t know if I’d like him as a stepfather. Is that what he’d be? Sounds kind of strange, doesn’t it? “Hi, this is my dad and my stepdad.” (blinks in astonishment!)

Oh, and Dad told me he and Mom are getting a divorce when I turn eighteen.

Well, just knock me upside the wall with a 2 by 4.

I mean, well, yes, I got teary eyed. I guess it happens with parents sometimes, but you never expect it to happen to yours.

I guess Mom knows about Will and part of the reason I’m here this summer is to get to know him because he might be moving in with Dad after the divorce.

I guess Dad and Will’s relationship is no secret in Pine Corner, WI. That’s why Brent’s parents won’t let him come over and why she gave me the evil eye.

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Saturday, May 31, 2008

Hey guys!

Still no Brent. I thought we might go swimming today, but they weren’t even home.

I was bummed and moped around the house enough for Dad to ask me what was my problem?

“I told Brent I’m gay,” I said.

He looked at me and said, “So?”

“He’s not here to take me swimming! He wasn’t here yesterday to take me swimming! He hasn’t come over since I told him!” I practically yelled it at him.

“You might not have noticed because Wisconsin is so far from the Pacific Ocean, but it is Saturday here and I suppose the pool at the high school is closed today. And, I suspect Brent went with his parents to Wally World in Milwaukee or Sheboygan or Fond du Lac or Madison or even little ol’ Tomah. And, on the way back they’ll have to hit every yard sale between there and here, and will probably stop in Petawnsky at Greg’s Dinner House. More than likely, you won’t see him until tomorrow morning after church.”

Speaking of which, I went to confession. They have a real nice booth. It was made right here way back when they built Saint Alberg. Local craftsmen did it. I guess most were born in the old country. They did a nice job, too. Cushy seat makes you so comfortable you say the darnedest things to Father O’Shea.

I didn’t tell him I was gay, though. It’s not a sin to be gay. You might do sinful things being gay, like fornicating, adultery, and the ever popular sodomy, but a lot of gays are very much into sodomy because that’s how we do it. Besides, it’s a straight word anyway. Men have been committing sodomy ever since Lot ended up in Sodom and had those visitors who the Sodomites wanted to know in the Biblical sense.

Just so you know, I haven’t known anyone, boy or girl, man or woman, but, you know what, I’d like to know Brent. I’d kind of like him to know me, too.