A lot of people like asking, despite rarely getting much of an answer out of me, how the book is doing.

Typically, I say "Fine," and change the subject. But for the more inquisitive types, here is a sure-fire way to know the score.

If you are in my apartment, and my desk looks like this:

I am NOT doing any work on the novel.

If you visit, and my desk looks like this:

I AM working on the novel.

So, for those of you who have the opportunity to see my desk, there is the easiest way in the world to tell what’s up.

In other news, I just watched the documentary that came with the RENT DVD, which was like two hours about Jonathan Larson, and the biggest takeaway  was that he had a gut sense that he was doing important work, but he seemed to have an amazingly light, open, fun spirit about that process. It just makes me want to try anything to get away from my clamped down, blinders-on approach to things, in large part because I don’t think it serves me, the book, my social life, or my romantic potential all that well.

Beyond that, I did apply for that writing/social justice job on Friday, and I am really loving the possibility of that panning out. Hopefully I will hear from them this week, and we can figure everything out. Send any good vibes my way, if you have a moment.

Yikes, been a while since I last wrote. Lots happening, let’s just kick it off…

On Valentine’s Day, Adrian (he of Oasis admin fame, and resident of South Africa) visited SF on pretty much NO notice, but we still managed to get a lot of quality visiting/eating in. But one of our first stops was actually "Pillow Fight Club," a cacophonous, flash-mob, Chuck-offshoot event whereby nearly a thousand people all arrived at Justin Herman Plaza near Embarcadero before 6 p.m., mostly with concealed pillows (as the invite asked). When the clock struck six, the pillows struck everybody. I trashed my pillow in the first five minutes thinking the event would fizzle out soon enough, but it went on for a good 20-25 minutes. It was certainly a raucous fun event, although like most of these events, a one-off. You can really only do an effective flash-mob on the same theme one time, then it’s just boring.

Most of my time with Adrian was combining tourism with eating, so we visited Haight-Ashbury and had Ethiopian food at Massawa (as soon as I found out he had never had Ethiopian cuisine, it seemed to ironic for him to come here from South Africa to taste it for the first time), the financial district and the Vietnamese splendor of Slanted Door, the Mission and the grilled vegan heaven of Herbivore, the Castro and the Burmese served by the cute boys of Nirvana, and of course, Union Square and the vegan delights of Millennium.

When Adrian left, I settled in for a night of eating home and crashing early, until my phone rang and I was given three minutes advance notice that i was being picked up for a night on the town by Jeremy and some friends. Much to my surprise, we ended up at Dragon (the weekly gay Asian dance club) because their previous destinations had been taken over by the bears that had descended on the town for a special fat, hairy weekend. We figured skinny, smooth boys would be Bear Kryptonite, and we were correct. That night ended at 5 a.m., so my goal of chilling out quietly failed miserably.

On a few hours sleep, I had lunch Saturday with Anthony Rapp, in town to promote his new book and do an acoustic show at the Swedish American Music Hall. Once again, the bears made me nervous as every brunch place on my way to Nirvana was overflowing with lines onto the sidewalk, but apparently, Nirvana was too healthy for the bears, and I got my pick of tables. Anthony and I had the longest conversation of the time we have known one another, and it was certainly enlightening.

One of the things I discussed with him, since I don’t know many people who can relate, is that I have never been good at accepting praise for Oasis. It’s been ten years, and when people e-mail me to thank me for the site, sometimes in their late 20s now after reading it when they were teens, it is not something I let in easily. The e-mails sit in my in box, and some block prevents me from just admitting that what I created has had an effect. The strange part is that Oasis was wholly my own invention, it is not even like I’m being humble because I don’t want to step on other people’s toes. There are no other toes. (Although it i safe to say that without Jase Pittman-Wells playing designer/webmaster from the start, it might not have come to fruition). Anthony said it was "unacceptable" to not take credit for it.

Flash forward to yesterday (Tuesday), and I’m reading the piece the SF Chronicle wrote about Anthony and his book, which has been getting across-the-board great reviews. After reading the piece, I am actually recalling our conversation from Saturday, in particular the notion that I need to own my role in Oasis. In that very moment, the phone rings, and it is a previous contributor to Oasis, who started reading it in his teens and is now a college senior, specifically calling me to thank me for Oasis and the impact it had on his life. Now, e-mails are pretty common on this topic, but this is the first random phone call of this kind I can ever remember. So, when the universe conspires to help you, it doesn’t go for subtlety apparently.

In other news, some of you may know (although most of you don’t, as I don’t think I ever wrote about it here) that I was considering taking a job as a nanny to a friend’s baby when she returns to work in April. It came down to me and another professional nanny (25+ years or something), and they went with the pro. I’m such a flake lately that I like anything that has clarity to it, so getting the gig or not getting the gig both give me closure on that whole topic, so it’s welcome. The main ironic component is that I only threw my hat in the ring after she kept saying "You should be our nanny when I go back to work." After hearing that enough times, it started to sound like a good idea. But when it became real, experience ruled the day.

There is a job that I am applying for today that is really spooky because it’s both a writing job (which I keep swearing I won’t do anymore full-time) and one that I am actually nervous at the prospect of getting it, because it seems like it could be the first time in my adult life that I could have a job that pays me AND I think it doing great work for the betterment of society. The pessimist in me says this can only mean I won’t get it, since I am more apt to get jobs that torture me.

While I watch the last of my savings dwindle to nothing, I decided to look into subletting office space at The Grotto, which is a local writers community, where they rent a big space, chop it up into offices, and then all show up and do their work together. It sort of has that psychological pressure aspect, whereby you know (or assume) everyone else is in their office getting it done, and then they have communal lunches and such. It seemed like a good idea and I found a half-time sublet. But, what I didn’t know was that the Grotto moved. It used to be a 7-8 minute walk from my house, and now it would probably need to be a 20-minute streetcar ride. And since it is a sublet, I would be carrying my laptop back and forth to begin with, so it just seemed like I would be waking up early to work out, then carry my laptop downtown in order to boot it up and be able to work on my novel, and then commute back around rush hour. At the end of the day, the extra commuting seemed to make me think: perhaps you could… oh, I don’t know… boot up your computer at home after going to the gym and work on your novel? I mean, I like the psychological component a lot, but for now, it needs to just be about me getting it in gear on my own.

And, umm, that’s where things are at right now.

Well, first of all, I had a freaky event the other day. I was doing cardio (because it was a day that ends in y) at the Potrero Hill 24 Hour Fitness (I apologize for my ever-erratic gym location selections, which I realize makes it difficult for my would-be stalkers), and after the gym, I’m putting my pants on and realize (once again) that although they are not "loose," they are not "snug."

This gym happens to be under an Old Navy, which seems to be the company that provides the pants for my urban-commie look that seems to have developed, so I pop in upstairs and find some authentic cargos in 30×32. I am half doing this to show my body that it is getting overeager, and that they will be too tight. But a part of me thinks, I am totally getting into these.

So, despite them only having tan instead of my preferred olive-green, I leave with new, small pants within a few minutes. It is strange knowing that all of this stuff has to wrap up soon. I mean, we’re starting to feel bone there, so this might be it. If not, I can’t imagine ever wearing anything under a 28. We shall see…

Despite the fact that I’m supposed to be all frugal and stuff now, a new pants size is ALWAYS in the budget (assuming the new size is smaller than the current one, of course). And it is a good shot of self-esteem.

I am back on the Macy’s Diet somewhat. A lot of side-salads and needless snacks are off the menu, trying to get everything back on track. In typical weirdo fashion, I binged out the day before getting all serious again. I give up trying to figure out why. But since it only occurs when I’m about to ratchet up the focus on the diet, and I’m nearing the end of ever having to ratchet it up again, I’m assuming it will just go away? Would be nice.

So, new pants definitely fall under the WHYDT.

I’m still procrastinating on the book, although I can’t really figure out why. I think, like the diet, it is a larger identity issue. I mean, who am I if I’m skinny with a finished novel? I have no idea. So, there’s a lesson, kids, never build an identity on your failures because at some point you might get off your ass and not know who you are.

It looks like I’m going to be renting office space for February/March to work on the novel. I am absolutely refusing anything else to get in. I’m not starting yoga, going overboard cooking new things… no, nothing else. If I’m not working on the book, I don’t get to go out and have fun.

It is just a matter of sitting here and getting started. Woody Allen said that 80 percent of success is showing up, and that has to be the new mantra.

The funny thing is, I don’t believe in writer’s block. I don’t even think I’m blocked now. I actually know what I want to do, what I plan to do with the book… but, anything else sounds like more fun. To me, writer’s block is me staring at a Microsoft Word document and being unable to know what the point is, what I want to say…

Not that I am 100 percent clear on the book, but I am optimistic enough to know that if I "show up," it will all sort itself out. There are incredible moments in the book that just arrive when you are there to receive them.

Like now, am I writing a blog entry… or avoiding the novel? Good question. The even bigger issue is… what will take the blog’s place when I hit publish now? Let’s see…

So, lately I’ve been thinking about my diet at Macy’s… as opposed to my diet post-Macy’s. Oddly enough, my body seems to think that doing less requires more fuel. I mean, to be fair, I’m not typically overeating, but the weight loss that was happening has definitely slowed down.

It’s just little things. At Macy’s, my dinner was always one container of food (chili, stew, etc.) and an apple. That’s it. Home, I will have that same portion of food… but then add a salad, and perhaps a side dish. And, although I was bored to tears at Macy’s, it was still physical activity (pacing around an empty retail floor for 7.5 hours), whereas now I’m typically in front of my computer or just out running errands, which doesn’t require additional food. So, starting tomorrow, it is back on the Macy’s Diet for me. Portion control reigns supreme.

Of course, the big diet news is the "landmark study" that has been talked about everywhere today. Sadly, this news will enable people to avoid decisions that will benefit their health by providing them with "proof" that their choices are valid. In a nutshell, the study says that people on a low-fat diet had the same rates of breast cancer, colon cancer, heart attacks and strokes as people who were not on a low-fat diet.

Now, that’s the stuff you will hear everywhere. And the study is getting a lot of attention because it was following 49,000 women over a period of eight years, so as far as epidemiological research, huge sample, good period of time.

The problem? The low-fat study group was NOT on a low-fat diet, at least not by any metric I’ve ever seen by people who advocate a low-fat diet. At the START of the study, these women were getting 24 percent of their daily calories from fat, and at the END of the study, they were up to 29 percent of their daily calories from fat (so, basically, at no period of time did the low-fat group even hit the target of 20 percent). The control group started at 35 percent and ramped up to 37 percent.

This is the classic example of people who think they are watching their intake and are deluded, not to mention people making temporary changes hoping for permanent results.

REAL low-fat diets, like the McDougall Plan (which I follow, with a slight Weight Watchers twist to it), Pritikin, and the Ornish plan (the three major players in the low fat world) all recommend diets with about only 10 percent calories from fat.

The real health benefits come from getting it down to that level, which will largely include reducing intake of animal-based products, which is where a lot of the cancer-promoting stuff comes from. Just reading The China Study gives you a clear picture of how animal protein fuels the growth of cancer cells in the body (and this is all based on the study that The New York Times referred to as the “Grand Prix of epidemiology” and the “most comprehensive large
study ever undertaken of the relationship between diet and the risk of
developing disease.")

So, what we have then is a study whereby people barely reduced their fat intake and what little they did reduce it by was done through modified foods known to have cancer-promoting qualities (if one is to believe the images accompanying the news stories on TV, they reduced it through skim milk, leaner meats, and such).

Even the spokesperson for the study on the morning program I saw at the gym did mention the abhorrently high fat consumption of the "low-fat" group, but the media has its soundbyte, and it is sticking to it.

As Dr. McDougall often says, "People love to hear good news about their bad habits."