“It’s no secret to those knowledgeable about addiction and recovery that people are most vulnerable to relapse when they are closest to achieving sobriety.” – Rita Lowenthal
One – Way Ticket is one of those books you don’t dare pass on. Simply because it’s too precious. It’s a book that reminds us amongst other things, that no matter how much pain or grief we cause to our mothers in particular, we will never lose sight in her eyes.
Rita Lowenthal, presumably in her 80’s at the time of this post, was and still is the mother of Josh Lowenthal, a talented Jewish musician and artist whose inability to conquer his addiction, allowed a disease to infiltrate and ultimately take his life. Ms. Lowenthal chooses words that invite you into her sons former world, causing the reader to feel as if they knew Josh intimately. Meet and greets with famous jazz legends, relationships with loving women who chose not to run during Josh’s bouts in county jail and then worse, his numerous bids in the oldest prison in California, San Quentin.
Like the serenity prayer, Rita so gracefully portrays through words, detailing her arduous fight to save her son’s life, that sometime we have to accept the things in which are beyond our control.
Although my struggles aren’t with drugs, I have many.
I search for books in a very fortuitous manner. In the search bar I type in the genre and vaguely sift through the titles that seem interesting. If available I’ll read the brief summary attached. However, I am beginning to believe that the way in which these books find their rightful place on my desk is less fortuitous and more good fortune. At times they cause deep bouts of depression, but praise God, I am always stronger for having read them.
RIP – JOSH LOWENTHAL
There comes a moment when one faces the fresh features of an inner face; a time of conscious rebirth, when the accounting’s done, the weave in its final flourish, a time when a man stands before the world – vulnerable, nothing owed – and considers his place in it. I had reached such a moment.
Luis J. Rodriguez
‘Always Running’ is a book, better yet, a ‘piece’ that makes a person pause and search inside oneself. A book that points our gaze out through a window, towards the still morning sky, recollecting on and digesting sentences so artfully and delicately constructed. Words portraying lives many of us hope to avoid, carefully chosen words many writers hope to master.
A designer and writer are essentially one in the same. A designer creates pleasure visually whereas a writer uses words to create pleasurable imagery. Rodriguez is a writer whose paragraphs are devoid of either fat or wasted space, a writer whose experiences breathed life into every situation. At times I felt as if I were the protagonist, figuring out how to survive my adolescence.
I think I’ll write Mr. Rodriguez a letter. In it I will thank him for escaping death, for had it been inescapable, it’s a fair argument that countless souls would still be running.
This was the best image I could find on the internet without having to take a picture of the actual book. A thousand apologies for the pixelation.
But although the image is subpar, the content inside is out of this world. Rayford L. Johnson sheds light on so many aspects of ‘thug’ mentality. He teaches us the true origin of the word ‘thug’ which actually emanated out of Bombay, India. Johnson states that the word is about 700 years old and that a peculiar group of Hindus worshipped the goddess Kali, the dark consort of Shiva who is said to feed on the blood of mortals and haunt the burning-grounds where Hindus are cremated.Typically. Shiva was represented as a black woman (one of her epithets, Kali Ma, means “black mother”), numerous arms, and garlanded with human skulls and a long red tongue protruding from a screaming mouth. Human sacrifices were once carried out in temples paying homage to Kali. Kali worshipers from the 13th century practiced ritual murder and robbing of native travelers through the countryside. These worshipers were from a tribe called, Thuggee.
I wanted to share an excerpt from the book 1421 The Year China Discovered America.
In it it says, ” Sixteen concubines were buried alive with Zhu Di. The complex was sealed as the cries of the doomed women marked the end of the mortal life of one of the greatest visionaries and gamblers in history.”
Loved how the author, Mr. Menzies, used descriptive words to paint a picture of those ill-fated girls being buried alive.
If this is your first time hearing about Abebooks.com, then it’s time to familiarize yourself with them. People they are PHAT! The selection at Abebooks is vast, their delivery time is better than Pizza Hut in the hood and they’re RIDONKULOUSLY CHEAP. Yeah they’re used, but it’s a book for crying out loud. It’s not like you have to wear it!
Anyhow, ‘OnceUponAde’ has a little more writing to do in addition to some design work in photoshop and then it’s on to ‘1421 The Year China Discovered America‘ written by Gavin Menzies.
I heard phenomenal things about this 600 page monster.
I have said it before, but I’ll say it again. There is a subtle, brief period of sorrow after fully completing a book. In my opinion, reading a book takes a level of commitment to the material within. Just like men and woman risks their hearts in new relationship endeavors, you risk your time and emotions in chancing a new book. The odds of finding a good ‘read’ or ‘partner’ aren’t always in our favor.
Gang Leader For A Day
by Sudhir Venkatesh
A risk well taken. Great read.