Oh, The Places You'll Go (At Building #19)

I have the Ah-ha moment whilst meandering through the local Building #19. The store’s self-awareness appeals to me and, I don’t know, maybe sometimes it also rubs off. This is the kind of joint where things wind up after close-outs, bankruptcies, accidents and acts of God; the kind of place where after handling the designer merchandise you hurry home to wash your paws. All round me, cartooned-up murals make bright declarations in letters the size of cinderblocks. Black, yellow, and red words remind me to “Suffer a Little, Save a Lot,” and that the free coffee (“Don’t laugh, someday you’ll be old and weak too!”) comes with free fake cream.

The moment comes unannounced and definite, like a sneeze. I’m sifting through the hardcover kid’s books and they keep getting better and better: Do I want a beautifully illustrated African story ($2.99) or a nicely printed Caldecott medal winner ($4.99), or both? Then, Ah!—A peculiar effervesce fills my body. It starts way down deep in the toes—Ah!—up and up something wonderful through my heart—Ah!—until the bubbles reach my head and pop into thought—Ah-ha! Some day my book will be for sale here. The one I wrote!

Book? What book? The one inside. On some future day I’ll casually browse The 19 reading department and—“Oh, isn’t that my little book there? Well, well.” I’ll inwardly smile. My work, having moved through the usual channels of production and distribution, has come to its retail resting place. I inhale a deep dust-breath and live in the dreaminess, not concerning myself with questions about How, What, or Will This Happen In My Lifetime? Instead, I live in the already-done part, the It’s Amongst Reputable Books At Prices I Can Afford part.

When I do leave, the Ah-ha comes too. I see we are going because the hand-painted cardboard sign tilting above the broken door reads, “Wipe your feet before you leave—you don’t want to mess up the outside.”

Building #19’s no-frills website | Mat Brown, Building #19 cartoonist