Hey. You might have noticed I'm rarely here during the week these days.

Yes, by design. Trying to keep my focus entirely on my book during the week. Hence the big one-day bursts on Saturdays and Sundays. So look for me then. (Or on Mondays when you get back to trolling the web at the office, while your boss is away. heeheehee.)

OK, better try that bigger:

LOOK FOR ME MOSTLY ON THE WEEKENDS UNTIL THIS BOOK IS DONE!

Occasionally I may stop by in an evening, if I've had a great day and deserve an indulgence, or maybe once in awhile for a quickie. (Like just now. I figured since I was here to let you know this, I could pound out a quick reaction to the Housewives.)

But hopefully you'll see a lot of self-control.

See you Saturday.

No, I'm not talking about some big flare-up this week or this month. The original schism between the two.

If you've always wondered what the two terms mean, Beliefnet is featuring an excerpt from Wendy Murray Zoba's book on Evangelical Christians that lays out the split.

Great little informative read, and gives you a taste of what you'll find in her book. Prolly not the most fascinating subject matter for people outside that particular fold, but gives you an idea of her style.

Just read the Booklist review of Wendy Murray Zoba's new book (released today), The Beliefnet Guide to Evangelical Christianity. Check out this opening:

Citing a 2003 poll, Zoba reports common knowledge: "Americans generally" dislike evangelicals "more than any other social sector, except for prostitutes."

Wow. It's amazing how many people think the evangelicals have taken over the country, when they're actually getting trampled into the dirt.

And if you spend any time at all with them, you realize how badly they can feel it. Why do you think some of them behave like cornered animals?

I have three friends with new books out. This has never happened before.

David Plotz, my editor at Slate, has a big new book from Random House, The Genius Factory. More on that soon, as well as on David Yoo's Girls for Breakfast.

But Wendy Murray Zoba, a friend and collegue I got to know covering Columbine was asked by Beliefnet and Doubleday to write The Beliefnet Guide to Evangelical Christianity.

The two are teaming up for a series of books on the various world religions, and at this moment in time, this one and the one on Islam are arguably the most important for most Americans, who are largely unfamiliar with both.

Really cool that they asked her to write it. And she has spent her life working in the field, but still spent ages researching it.

It comes out tomorrow. I have not seen it yet, but here's Publishers Weekly's review (scroll down about one screen to the Editorial Reviews section):

Here we have evangelical Christianity in a nutshell, written by a former Time and Christianity Today journalist who describes herself as an evangelical. Using Beliefnet's characteristically breezy and accessible writing style, Zoba tells the truth about evangelical Christians. They are not all in agreement on political issues such as abortion and homosexuality; they don't all reject the theory of evolution; and while most believe in the inerrancy of the Bible ("when scripture says something, it is telling the truth"), they interpret scripture in a variety of ways. This guide claims that evangelicals share certain core religious values: they believe humans must have a "born again" experience to become Christians, emphasize a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, trust in the reliability of the Bible and "feel obliged to share their faith in Jesus (which they believe saves them from eternal damnation) with other people, in order to save them, too, from eternal damnation." The book works overtime to rescue evangelical Christianity from the notion that it promotes only individual concerns, with Zoba emphasizing the many ways evangelicals are working hard toward social justice and the alleviation of poverty. This guide delivers what it promises—a broad view of evangelicalism designed to help readers be more tolerant and accepting of this branch of Christianity. (June 14)

I have spent quite awhile covering Evangelicals, and while we definitely disagree on some key things--like the alleged sinfulness of my gay existence--I have found much more there than I expected. One of the most misunderstood groups in America. Partly because they are not one monolithic group. And that's a lot of what she tries to unravel.

Ever have doubts? Big, horrible, momentary flashes of doubt about the entire direction of your life?

Like, say, God actually not being cool with you loving guys, smiting you down the minute you die for it?

Perhaps I should keep these to myself, but . . .

I don't have them often. I'm pretty comfy that He'd be pissed as hell at me if I contorted myself into some abomination completely alien to how He made me.

But those little moments.

At the strangest times.

I was merrily making my breakfast just now, kind of all giddy cause my writing is finally kicking into high gear on this magazine story, plus I woke up and spilled out three pages in bed for the memoir that I'm still years away from reworking, but there it was, the answer to so much of the ending.

And I was doing a little happy dance, so I gazed up for a second and thanked God for all the great gifts I had been given, feeling slightly guilty again that I haven't done that in awhile, seem to have lost my way on how to pray again, but grateful that the feeling just struck me for a mini conversation and I went with it, and for some reason I was struck with an unexpected thought, and of course it popped right out my mouth, cause I was born without an editor: "God, I hope you exist." (No pun intended on the first word.) "I think so. Hopefully." He usually does, for me. Sometimes He slips away for awhile, but usually.

Then right on its heals, "Hope it's OK, me loving men." Man, where the hell did that come from? That's when the smite feeling zipped up my spine, though it failed to translate into words and hence steered clear of my mouth.

Very calm feeling immediately after, though. "At least I'm loving somebody."

Yup. Pretty damn sure that's what He wants. (Pun intended that time.)

I'm sure the doubts have been lingering in my air because of the story I've been working on off and on for months now. Evangelical Christians are the subject. Hard not to feel a little of it rub off on you after while. (Quite a bright lot, actually, and sincere, good-willed  people I've been dealing with.) At least needle some of your assumptions. Which is a good thing, really. I need more of that. But that particular one can get a little unsettling.

Never have I felt more right about it, though, than the moment right after. If there is a god up there somewhere who made me, He and I are both pretty damn clear on how he made me, after all the decades I spent fighting it. And I'm pretty sure He put me down here to love somebody, along with all the exploring and writing He expects out of me. To help me with it, in fact, to share in it. And we both know He didn't make me capable of loving a woman that way. What a pathetic buffoon I would be to curl up in some corner and let my heart wither up and my life with it just because some jerks down here insist they've got the whole freaking thing figured out for us: me, Him, The Plan--they know everything, including what's in my heart, including how He speaks to me as well as them. Right.

So happy to be past all those silly years chasing after the mirage of love with all those women. (And sorry, ladies, for leading you on with something that could never work out anyway.) I feel better than ever this morning, actually. Nice to have the shudder of doubt bubble up to the surface and get answered.

This was a good one. Sometimes I'm not so lucky.

Luckily, I already am. God, am I white. That's after weeks of struggle in the tanning salon in that shot to the left. But Margaret Cho is not, and I just stumbled upon a mildly heart-breaking post on her blog by that title. Opens like this:

I would love to be white. Not forever, but perhaps a weekend. Don't you ever get sick of being a minority?

God. That's how I feel like being gay sometimes.

Like after writing the last part of that last piece. Just a break sometimes. Not have to worry about it. Just be normal, like everybody else.

Not that I feel abnormal that much of the time, but that's because I did exactly what I swore I never would when I started facing up to my urges in my 30s. I gradually surrounded myself almost exclusively with gay people or gay-friendly. Probably too many of the former, too few of the latter. Because I don't want to get up every morning and deal with, it's just easier just to be normal, most of the time.

But then I venture into that other world, or I write stories for all the straight people, or consider the content of my blog and how I don't want it to be too gay, do I, or I'll scare off all the straight people, even though God knows I lost that battle a million years ago.

Here was my favorite part of Margaret's piece, the end of the last paragraph:

I have posed this question to other minority artists, and get stumped by answers like "No, not ever have I ever wanted to be white." And I just don't buy it. Why would you not want things to be easier?

Me neither. I just don't buy it.

I'm perfectly happy being gay most of the time, something I never thought I would be comfortable with. But even though I don't notice it most of the time, it is a freaking load to carry around with me everywhere, and it should would be refreshing just to set it down every now and again.

Just for a weekend.

I watched Eyes for the (fourth?) week in a row tonight.

Not a fluke. Definite keeper.

Really don't feel like going into it all, trying to unravel it. It's just got it. Clever scripts, interesting characters, great tension between them, lots of smiles, the good kind that go on and on and on.

OK, that's what I was sort of mentally composing during the final commercial break. (I don't watch them, thanks to tivo, but they are natural pauses, and I do use them to take my breaks, or sometimes just to sit and reflect.)

Then, in the final two minutes of the show, the kinda studly FBI agent who had guest starred briefly in this episode dropped by to thank one of the lead characters for his help on the case--the slick, sharp, ultra-cool black guy with the shaved head. And studly asked leading character to dinner, "If you're free."

"Free?"

Nervous laughter on both sides, hemming and hawing . . . "Single, available . . . unless I've got the wrong idea entirely, then--"

"How about Friday night."

Nice. Didn't see that one coming. (And I did the dio from memory, so it may not be precise--though I watched it about eight times, cause it was just so irresistable.)

God, is it nice to see a couple gay guys depicted as normal guys, particularly in hardass professions. They don't all have to be queens.

(And those poor anti-gay crusaders. They're right, you know: that gays are waging a battle of acceptance, and using the media to do it. Of course they're just using the media to depict reality. There are studly gay FBI agents out there, and there are cool gay private detectives, and I'm sure plenty have dated before. Does anyone actually doubt that? For the first half century or so of television, they conspired to hide that. Nice to see them opening up and showing the real world now and then. Even on a silly cop show.)

Wow. Finally.

Just watching Monsignor Lorenzo Albacete of St. Joseph's Seminary in NY, on Charlie Rose.

Struggling for the words to describe this guy. Wise, thoughtful, reasonable. Firm grasp of the world around him--the real one, the one this century.

Funny, too, and not in that BS church-humor way.

Most of all, honest. Candid. Sincere. Every word out of his mouth, I believe.

Of all the qualities to be so rare among leaders of this giant church.

Tonight I have hope.

More so because I had to look up the title. In all my years as a Catholic, never ran into a monsignor personally. My dictionary reads, "A title and an office conferred on a male cleric by a pope."

I'm assuming JP would be the pope in question. So he can spot a good man when he sees one.

Or maybe he's just a clever con artist? How should I know, I've only spent half an hour watching him on the teevee. But I'd lay money he's a good guy.

All it would take would be one man like this one to sneak through the system. (Or in the case of a con artist, one man actually like the guy he's pretending to be.)

One day.

Well, it's that dreaded anniversary, six years ago today since Columbine. It's fittingly and uncharacteristically bleak and overcast in Denver today. I know that's how a lot of people I've gotten to know feel today. I can only hope it passes for you quickly this year.

Meanwhile, and coincidentially, I happened to get around to organizing some information this weekend, and decided to make it available to you all:

In the fall of 2000, the cops released 11,000 pages of police files on Columbine. It's all online here, and provides a wealth of information, but you could spend weeks wading through it and still not find anything in particular you're looking for.

So this weekend, I posted two indexes. One is general and comprehensive--I found online long ago, but it long-since disappeared. The other I compiled myself. It is much more specific, and will guide you directly to topics frequently of interest, like Dylan Klebold's bloody creative writing story that foreshadowed the attack, the contents of Eric Harris's website, and interviews with the Marine recruiter which debunk the myth that Eric was infuriated at being rejected by the Marines shortly before the attack. (He never even received the news.)

I posted it all here. It's buried inside my Columbine Almanac, so most of you would never come across it, but if any of that interests you, there you go.

---

Well, as I dug around on the web, today, I came across one of the best Columbine resource sites I've ever found out there.

The Columbine Research Site is just a dream come true for anyone researching Columbine.

It is mainly restricted to official government releases, but those are a key part of the record, and it has nearly all of them.

It includes the obvious sites like the various government reports, diagrams, some of the audiotapes and the first 11,000 pages of police files. But you will also find many more obscure items, like the search warrants (where I found a surprisingly useful trove of info, and had formerly only found in paper, bound in the Columbine Library in Littleton), the second 10,000 pages of police reports (not even available at the Columbine Library), and much, much more.

And it's got a much better compilation of the 11,000 pages of police files than the link above, with its own detailed index built right in.

If you want to dig down into the nitty gritty of Columbine, this is your new home.

---

On a very different note, one of the silver linings of Columbine for me was all the great people I met. Often in the most unlikely circumstances. One of the most unlikely was Rev. Bill Oudemolen, who provided the title for my Salon story on Columbine Evangelicals, I Smell the Presence of Satan.

He wasn't thrilled with parts of the piece at first, and he emailed to tell me so, so I revised it for a reprint in The Denver Post, and oddly enough, the more we talked, the more we liked each other. (Not in a homosexual way, of course.) My first Evangelical friend. And I believe I was his first homo friend. He's a really nice guy. Not all all the close-minded ninny I was assuming.

Same on both counts for his wife Jan. She's cute, and blond and adorable, and of course my first thought was trophy wife! Not a bad trophy, but she's got a great heart, too, and a great mind. Haven't seen them in awhile. Really miss them. Can't wait to catch up on The Amazing Race--though I'm afraid Bill has missed his chance to compete on the show with me.

(Eventually, my second and even more unlikely Evangelical friend, Wendy Zoba, interviewed Bill and me for a Christianity Today piece called Building A Bridge--between gays and Evangelicals.)

Bill started a blog of his own this week, Mile High Rev, and posted early this morning about his own memories of the tragedy six years ago.