eric nuzum dot com

Buy this book or I'll shoot this house

About a year ago I was out to lunch with my friend, Chuck, when he asked if I'd read the manuscript for our mutual friend David's new book.

"It's the best thing he's ever written, hands down," I said.

"I was about to say the same thing myself," he replied.

This is noteworthy for two reasons, (a) Chuck and I rarely agree on anything, and (b) for David, who writes for a living, to hit that mark, he had to really be onto something.

He was...and is.

About 8 years ago, shortly after I met David, he gave me a few chapters of a book that he'd started writing about his house, a six-bedroom mansion in Akron, Ohio that he and his wife saved from the wrecking ball and have been rehabbing over the past 12 plus years. He'd been working on chapters on and off for awhile, but had set it aside to work on other projects. He wasn't particularly convinced that anyone would find it interesting.

To know David is to know his house. Basically because hanging out with him often means hanging out at his house, hearing plans and stories of his work on the place, watching it change and morph over time, or sitting around drinking beer while he worked (I have been particularly talented at this last idea).

After several years of prodding from everyone who knew him, he dusted off those chapters and set to work. This week, the rest of the world can enjoy it now, too.

And the world seems to find it interesting, with lots of people gravitating towards it. It is very exciting. For years I've told friends about David, his house, and all the crazy shit he's been through saving it from extinction. Now, instead, I can just hand them a copy of the book and save myself the effort.

Here is some more info on the book and here is a link to buy the damn thing.

And here is a video from the CBS Early Show, which includes lots of before and after footage of the house:

My calling has called

When I first saw this video, I thought to myself, "This is what I want to do with the rest of my life."

I'm not quite sure what I meant by that. It either means (a) I want to become a professional balloon artist, or (b) I want to be a documentarian who makes movies about professional balloon artists. Either way, it sounds like a winner to me.

Don't drive down Clinton Road at night...or else

  Old - Clinton Road 2 
  Originally uploaded by hralpme.

This past weekend two friends and I set off for the inaugural research trip for my new book, Boo Bring Me to Heaven. We journeyed to Clinton Road, an otherwise unremarkable ten-mile stretch of rural road about an hour northwest of Newark, New Jersey. However, Clinton Road is ground zero for urban legends. Think of any spooky story you've ever heard about a dark rural road and there is a Clinton Road version of it. There are hundreds of urban legends involving this road. And there have been stories about Clinton Road dating back to the 18th century.

Now, I won't tell you what happened (you need to wait for the book, silly), but I will tell you what we attempted to do.

Our goal was simple: to do everything you are never supposed to do on Clinton Road at night.

To aid in this quest, I compiled together hundreds of Clinton Road legends into a master list of moral warnings for Clinton Road travelers. We spent several hours Saturday night driving up and down Clinton Road trying our hardest to violate as many of these as possible.

Here is the list:

• Do not mention a car accident involving a Camaro.
• Do not assist stranded motorists.
• Do not walk or drive down unpaved roads or paths.
• Do not explore origins in tapping, knocking, or thunking sounds coming from the exterior of the car.
• Do not investigate lights or glowing objects in the woods.
• Do not attempt to move, drive around, or explore trees that fall in roadway.
• Avoid all animals.
• Avoid anyone shouting seemingly random numbers.
• Avoid all fellow travelers on the road.
• Do not attempt to pick up shiny objects.
• Do not stand on edge of reservoir bridge.
• Avoid midgets and miniature ponies.
• Do not throw coins off reservoir bridge.
• Do not pick up hitchhikers.
• Avoid UFOs and black pick-up trucks.
• Do not acknowledge anyone who blinks their headlights at you.
• Do not assist brides in need of a ride to their wedding chapel.
• Avoid local residents.
• Avoid disembodied hands or men with no arms.
• Do not flip off passing cars.
• Avoid all fires.
• Never discuss area ghosts or hauntings.
• Do not step inside a circle of rocks.
• Do not attempt to touch or pick up discarded items of clothing, especially those that move on their own.
• Do not eat bagels.
• Do not taunt the source of noises coming from the woods.
• Stay away from horses.
• Do not approach dogs that appear to be floating.
• Avoid nudists and albinos.

If you are interested in learning more about Clinton Road, I always point people to the Clinton Road Wikipedia page.

Help me interview Chuck Palahniuk

  Chuck Palahniuk's books 
  Originally uploaded by Yoav Lerman.

Whenever any of my friends hear that I've been asked to interview author Chuck Palahniuk in front of a huge audience at the Avalon Theater on June 3rd, they always have the same response.

"Cool."

Then there is a bit of a pause.

"You know," everyone continues, "his fans are...crazy."

So, I've heard.

Trust me, this has weighed on my mind. I'll be be sitting on stage with this noted author (in DC to pimp his new novel, Snuff), in front of hundreds of his rabid fans. No matter how much I read up on his output, I will still be the least informed person in the room about Chuck Palahniuk's work. So, instead of faking it, I've decided to embrace my stupidity (this tactic has worked well for me in the past, like, almost every day of my life).

It's just been announced that the event is happening, so now seems like an ideal time to put my plan into effect.

Basically, I'll be posting around on message boards and fan sites asking: "What should I ask Chuck Palahniuk in our interview?"

If you have any suggestions, feel free to write me. I'll even give you a shout-out if I use your question.

 

Powerful

  nap time 
  Originally uploaded by ericandkatherine.

I haven't written much lately, here or anywhere, because I've been sick. I thought it was allergies, then I thought it was a cold, then I thought it was pneumonia, then I thought I was going to die.

It turns out I had a whopper case of bronchitis. Much to the chagrin of many, I'm sure, I will survive.

I was at home Monday coughing out little chucklets of my lungs and Katherine was home too (feeling a little under the weather herself). We were all set up for our sick day, then the power went out.

Then it came back on. And went off. And came on. And went off again.

I stopped counting after the fourth time. I stopped resetting all the clocks and counters a few after that.

The power was out all through our neighborhood because of some terrible storms over the weekend bringing high winds and inches and inches of rain. I optimistically called the electric company, where a recording told us to hang tight until 7pm.

So we sat there: no telephone, no TV, no computers, no...anything we like to do. So we had to entertain each other. (Not in that way, perv-o, we were sick). We talked and napped and read and made each other laugh. The animals piled onto the couch as well and we all just hung out.

I was actually a bit disappointed when the power came back on. We'd just busted out the candles, convinced the power company would never hit their deadline.

The next morning Katherine and I both admitted that we'd had a really good time. No distractions, no interruptions. All we had was each other. When you are in a marriage or long-term relationship, you occasionally wonder, in the back of your mind, if this person actually likes you--or if they are just used to you. Every once in awhile it's nice to have some fresh evidence that you are there on purpose.

I joked that we should turn the power off for a period of time every weekend. Actually, I wasn't joking at all.

I miss Meghan

  Look at my eye 
  Originally uploaded by ericandkatherine.

Calling someone your "best friend at work" is tantamount to proclaiming "this is the best tooth filling I've ever had" or announcing of all the boils you've ever had on your ass, this particular one is your favorite. Well, it isn't quite like those things at all, but you get the point.

Meghan and I have been friends for a few years, meeting through a mutual friend at work. At that time, we both took the Metro to the same stop, so we started riding home together. Then we didn't live near each other at all, but we went out for lunch a few times a week. Then we lived near each other again, so started commuting together again.

Also, Meghan became really good friends with Katherine, then started dating (now engaged to) one of Katherine's co-workers. Eventually, we all became part of a group of 8-12 friends who do a lot of things together.

But Meghan was always unique because, well, because I'd see her all the time.

About two weeks ago, Meghan took another job doing design work for a financial services company. It's a great move for her, but it's been pretty awful for me.

I don't think it's possible to appreciate how much having a real friend at work means, especially one you don't work with directly...until you lose them (because of the job change...not because they die...or you hate each other or something). Meghan wasn't just a fun person to have lunch or swap music with. She was a tie from my out-of-work life that provided a necessary sanity break from the occasional nuttiness of work.

I never talk about my full-time job here, and that's very deliberate. I love what I do, but it is very demanding work. It requires a lot of my time and energy, which I happily give--with one condition. Whenever possible, I leave work at work.

But now, work seems a lot more...lonely.

Fortunately, some of my other friends at work have taken notice of my dragging my feet as I walk down the hallway with my head hung down. They've responded with IMs, chats, or lunch invites. It's actually kind of touching.

The irony of all this is, as the picture might indicate, Meghan is a big jerk. In general. She's a bigger jerk because she took another job, but she was pretty jerky to start with.

My 12-year-old nephew's band

  eric and dylan 
  Originally uploaded by ericandkatherine.

Actually, my nephew is 11, but his birthday is only a few weeks away, which means he will INSIST that he is 12.

So, anyhow, the rock band.

Dylan has been interested in the drums since he was an infant. He would also want to play the drums when his father's bands would practice. His Mom just sent around a note that they'd been picked to play at an event in Boulder (where they live) and it includes a link to a song they recorded. Here is a link to their song.

It doesn't matter how many times I listen to it, when the singer kicks in, I smile.