Building 8: You Know If You've Been There

Building 8

You Know If You've Been There

"You Know If You’ve Been There.” “Been where?” “Where is ‘There’?” Let me tell you, or should I say, let the people in these stories tell you? THEY, not I, will tell you where “There” is. You see, it is about real life. It is about right and wrong. It is about good and evil. It is about you! We are all these things, but it is up to YOU! Your own “Building 8.” It awaits your entrance!

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At a Glance

Title: Building 8: You Know If You've Been There
Author: Anthony C. Mazzella
Publisher: Inkwater Press
Pages: 250
Trim Size: 5.5″ × 8.5″

Paperback
ISBN: 978-1-62901-407-4
Price: $15.95

Kindle
ISBN: 978-1-62901-408-1
Price: $7.99

How to Order

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6750 SW Franklin Street, Suite A
Portland, OR 97223-2542
Email: orders@inkwaterbooks.com
Phone: 503.968.6777
Fax: 503.968.6779

Book Trailer

About the Book

"You Know If You’ve Been There.” “Been where?” “Where is ‘There’?” Let me tell you, or should I say, let the people in these stories tell you? THEY, not I, will tell you where “There” is. You see, it is about real life. It is about right and wrong. It is about good and evil. It is about you! We are all these things, but it is up to YOU! Your own “Building 8.” It awaits your entrance!

...Minds can expand but never contract...the leprosy of the mind sets in and we become content to live in a colony of disease and separation...seek only the truth...challenge them with thoughtfulness and shields of logicalness...fear not with the staff of authority...for fertilizer, the vanity of ignorance and the unchaste of the soul may be used...oh Mother Earth!...the togetherness of all!...think, man! think!...I wait and I lurk and I steal your soul in the night, the back alley, the pulpit, the cradle and finally the grave...corruption, worms, rot, disease can be present, but we must strive for the center—the seeds of existence...the meat of sustenance and the marrow of faith...we must be ourselves...to be relatively free within the confines of a just and moral society...we wake up dark and dreary...we go the day dark and dreary...no middle...no beginning...just broken eggshells and glass...no fuss...no muss...bleach and hope...we all should strive for...man was created in the image...

Excerpt

Lilly

See the lilies of the field. They do not toil yet the Heav- enly Father cares for them. There is a season for all things. Turn turn turn! He that troubleth their own house shall inherit the wind. Seems like a severe case of indigestion to me. You’re not acting serious. Oh yes I am. Now stop your nonsense! Pick out what you want to talk about so we can plan the town’s azalea festival. That’s rich. Azaleas in the middle of a God forsaken desert. God has not abandoned a desert for he put it here. Why? To amuse himself at two humans who haven’t got a shred of dignity nor at least, a half broken air conditioner. Why do you talk like that? Because I like hearing the sound of my own voice so I don’t go crazy on half eaten crackers and stale cheese sand- wiches. They are only stale because you leave them out while you are drooling with one eye open and the other at half mast. Now, don’t bring Jonah into this. I wasn’t but since you...Argh!...Enough already! Let’s see...There was a tax collector named, uh, I can’t even remember his name. Was is...no it was Raoul...This is not Don Quixote and enough of your heretical meanderings. I was not being heretical but simply trying to counteract your seriousness in the matter of cheese and crackers. By the way, that is my privilege to discuss cheese and crackers and whatever else is dry and stale including present company. The only thing stale in this place is your lack of wit and good table matters. Specifically, removing various parts of your days’ meals from your teeth while complaining and incorrectly so, about my cologne. That is for sissies and Baptists. Real men use brittle soap and ice cold water and a good smoke of Habaneros 32. God, I miss those quiet times back when we were really alive and had a good 32. Better than 24 but not as expensive as a 49. Such is the fate of forsaken men and schoolgirls after the prom. You went to a prom at least sometime in your miserable little existence. Of course I did! I bet you smelled as sweet as a tiger lily and as miserable as a caged frog. NO SMARTASS! I smelled like musk - strong, virile, and...like you hadn’t bathe in months? No and at least I wash on a regular basis. Well, smarty pants I bathe on a regular basis - whenever I regu- larly please thank you very much! This is not working out too good. Why do you say that? The bickering - the back and forth - the snide remarks - cheese and crackers. How did that get in? I don’t know but it is amusing nonetheless. But it will all come out in the wash. You mean a bath? Now don’t start or you will be on the list with your ex. Okay you win.

About the Author

Anthony was born many years ago although can’t remember specifically the incident. This, roughly about 4 in the morning and has probably ruined many a night sleep since. New York City was his home but the South Bronx in the 60’s was his playground. It was a simple life centered around cement parks and pavement stick ball fields, with a smattering of the Police Athletic League and summer camp in the somewhere called the “country.” Could this be the basis for enjoying the simple life? He thinks so. As Anthony got older he realized there is good and bad and God and Satan, with a constant back and forth between all of these. He learned evil is not just a head spinning around on a girl but in the hearts and minds of people. He hopes you learn this, too. This is the summation of Anthony’s background but the story of his life is between the covers.

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