Almost there!

Accidentally included some random people in this photo.

Accidentally included some random people in this photo.

In Anchorage @ 12:45 am. Still fairly light outside.

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An itinerant life resumes – Heading up North (Kodiak, Alaska)

Photo by Sikumi

Photo by Sikumi

I bid you all adieu. A brief adieu as I will be heading up to Alaska this Monday, in search of revelation, release and restoration. Oh, and some mutha truckin money! Haha

But really, I am eagerly awaiting a plentiful season, few humpies and lots of reds. God willing the return will be nice as well.

If anyone needs to get a hold of me, I can be reached at this address:

C/o Virginia Adams
Attn: Ade` Craig
Box 8905
Kodiak, AK 99615
My cell phone will be off and so email or my mothers phone @ 6027624206 would be a great way to connect.
Happy days to everyone. Be well and live life to serve others. Until next time.

The brevity and significance of all our lives

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“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

 

 

A classic tale of survival and coming out renewed on the other side.

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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.

Always Running

You may be asking yourself why is Ade` reading so many books regarding gangs, thugs and street life; that’s because I found my new calling. Psyche. Let it be known that I couldn’t survive a day on the means street of any metropolitan city.

However, what I am trying to do is accumulate as much knowledge as possible about the ‘ins and outs’ of gangs. How they operate? Why they exist? What factors make a person turn to gang life? Is it possible to ever escape and return to a “normal” life?

My current script/screenplay that I am having a beast of a time structuring and outlining is titled, “TO MISS THE MARK”. So these books are simply critical as they have and will hopefully continue to answer many of the questions that have already materialized while plotting this story, as well as the ones forthcoming.

So here is a current book that I am reading called, ‘Always Running’ La Vida Loca: Gang days in L.A. Luis J Rodriguez has an ability to wistfully hurl you into the street life, fortunately bypassing any and every brutal initiation. Great read so far, kudos to the writer.

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What a book! Check it out if you get the opportunity!

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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.

1421

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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.