What to blog about.

Not sure what to blog about at this point so I’m just going to try different things and see what comes up. I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes. Here’s a song.

Kathy’s Song, Simon and Garfunkel


The Evolutionary Advantage of Homosexuality

I think this is a great piece of writing and theory. Kudos!


The Evolutionary Advantage of Homosexuality

Looking at our evolutionary history, viewing sexuality as a social act and recognizing its fluidity and spectrum gives a perspective that helps to explain homosexuality as natural. This also gives a different perspective on female sexuality, polygamy, promiscuity and the variety of sexual practices in the world. The reason gay and other non-reproductive sex would likely exist is because sex evolved into a social act. As a social act, sex would have been advantageous during our development as a species, and gender would not matter.

Homosexuality is too common and universal to be an unnatural phenomenon. By some estimates, it exists in about 10% of the human population and has been considered normal and expected of people in many societies throughout history—Ancient Greece and Feudal Japan for instance. Homosexuality is also very common in animals, who are indifferent to their own sexuality and the sexuality…

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The Train

The Train

I have kept this story mostly to myself, sharing it only rarely, with a few people very close to me. But right now, I’m going to write it down and perhaps I’ll share it with more.

On the day this takes place, I was 17. I was addicted to heroin, I didn’t live with my family and was friendless. I didn’t have anything going for me, basically. Except for Mike. You could say I was “in love” with him, as several people have told me, but honestly I don’t think my emotions are that extensive/deep. But whatever, close enough I think. He was very attractive, interesting, masculine, and friendly and loving toward me. It was the first time I felt so cared for, loved or these types of feelings from someone, and/or to a significant extent. I am gay, but was closeted at the time (for the most part), and I still think he is too. I had wanted him so badly, but didn’t act on that due to my fears, insecurities and such. I had grown up Baptist, which among other things had a major effect on this problem. I had very many internal problems at this point, full of them. He was crazy-to the point where I feel he shouldn’t be allowed out in society because he poses such a danger to everyone and himself. We were very much like a couple in just about every way. It was bizarre and is difficult to explain how we could be like that without any sex. We even slept in the same bed together every night…

Anyway, one day, in which I’m pretty sure I was not significantly influenced by drugs (I have reasons for why not), but he probably was (he always did a lot more than me), after an argument with his stepfather (with whom we were living along with Mike’s mother) and I don’t know specifically what other causes affected this (he had lots of problems and things disturbing him, such as paranoid schizophrenia, seizures, drugs, and life circumstances), he ran to the train tracks which unfortunately were very close by (two or three blocks) and therefore extra worrisome because he was suicidal and talked about killing himself often, with the tracks being one of his favorite methods/fantasies. I chased after him to the tracks to try to stop him. I didn’t know when the train would come and just hoped it would be long enough to calm him down or get help or something.

We got to the tracks and he was very distraught, as was I, because here, the only person, thing I had and cared about was waiting to be literally, gorily ripped apart in front of me and I felt pretty helpless. I tried reasoning and pleading with him. I think he tried telling me it was the right thing for him to be doing and was ohk and goodbye and I think I was crying (which I don’t do often) and soon we were just sitting on the tracks, waiting. He was a bit hysterical, and myself a little as well perhaps. My head was a mess, thoughts racing through, trying to figure out what to do, thinking about life and death or what I’d do without him. How could I fix this problem? Keep this, whatever terrible outcome from happening? My options (three): Let him go through with it, do it with him (because I might as well), or somehow fight him off the tracks (Of course, that’s if I couldn’t talk him down). First option-If he died I’d basically have nothing and have just lost the most important thing in the world to me, while feeling like I can’t live with myself, and therefore perhaps should kill myself (option two).

Of course, I didn’t like either option, but I sat there and contemplated all of that and everything related (not new to me). My life at this point still hadn’t gotten any better than it had ever been and even with my freedom as an adult (as I considered myself), it wasn’t worth it except for the all-important hope that I kept for a better life. Maybe here I should mention the things that had kept me going-fear of the afterlife (assuming it to probably be even worse than this one), desire to accomplish my goals before dying, the chance to be and express and represent myself in my way before I go missing that possibility, and hope for something better (I always thought it interestingly coincidental that the state motto is the word that held so much importance in my life).

The third option was a risk, but was the only one with a slight potential for a good outcome. He was a boxer and much stronger than me. So I couldn’t win a fight with him. And the train would come whenever it felt like. The way to do it would have to be to wait for the train to come so close that his guard might be down and he wouldn’t get the chance to fight back, so I could make my move then. So yeah, wait until those last few seconds in which we would probably just be killed or maybe just maimed. We waited for the train for a short time, sitting on the tracks, talking a little and thinking, relatively relaxed and surrendered. It showed up very inconveniently timely (perhaps 2-6 minutes?). I remember seeing and hearing it show up. It made me very sad, a bit scared (more just depressed), that copathieu feeling.

Again now, I tried to plead with him, but he got up in preparation to take the train (maybe I should mention that he had somewhat of an obsession with the train, maybe because of the time he saw his friend do the same in front of him, describing it as a disgusting, horrific and bloody mess). Both of us were pretty morbid. The train continued coming and I continued pleading and begging that he not, but that was useless. I had to make my decision now, as it approached, and based on the logic mentioned above, and my morals and such, I had to do what I felt was right, and had to continue trying at life, so I waited and prepared myself for those last few seconds to make my move, where I would have my only chance, that tiny window through which I could force him off the tracks. So, as it was coming, I tried to distract him with my words, which included me saying “I love you” (not a phrase I was accustomed to). And here is the train. In a few seconds, we’ll be dead, or, by the grace of God, alive (but still probably with an awful outcome).

I pulled him/threw myself at him with everything I had in my heroin-emaciated body, while trying to throw myself to the ground as hard as I possibly could with no attempt to cushion the fall whatsoever. He didn’t resist as hard as I prepared for and we fell onto the ground/rocks very hard and painfully. His head smashed into a big rock, leaving him cut and bruised in the face.

I distinctly remember my close-up of the train going by (btw, I think I landed on him), with tears, thinking “What are these passengers thinking right now as they’re looking out the windows at us?” They must have been shocked and concerned and wondering “what’s going on?” I looked around at our scene, not knowing if this situation/episode was even over. I didn’t think it was, but at least some time had been bought and we were alive. Well I’m pretty sure Mike was unconscious. We were just laying there. I don’t remember worrying that the blow to the head had killed him, so he was probably having a seizure or something, from which I quickly woke him up (this would happen on the regular). He got up and I hugged him. He seemed to have just had a concussion, because he could barely remember what had just happened and was in a much better mood. We headed back home, talked, went to rest or whatever we would normally do until yet another day in our sad lives, always full of suspense about what would happen next. So, not a happy ending because nothing was resolved or fixed, and perhaps now a precedent was set for actually going on the tracks. He remembered the basics of what happened.

Hello world!

This is my anonymous, private blog! This will be a place to post what isn’t necessarily appropriate for everybody. It’ll be a bit dark and risque (I think)! I don’t actually know what I’ll be posting yet though. I hope it is well received, thanks in advance 🙂