One Thousand One Hundred and Fifty Nine Moongs

As I write this Daylight by Aesop Rock starts playing. Good memories from a time where it didn't matter what the future held, I knew everything was going to be perfect. Enough of that. I made some Moong Dal for dinner, and I guess a few more meals in the week. Getting the ingredients got me out of honkey town and I visited a Korean, a Middle Eastern, and an Indian grocery. I cooked for myself, by myself and really missed having my own kitchen. I got the recipe on the internet. I'm no connaiseur but I thought it was quite good, I could feel the beads of sweat under my hair. I found out today while over at my grandmother's place setting up the new dresser that I put together for her that she fell down this week and was still getting over some serious pain in her hip. No one knew. No one called. All week. I'm the worst of us all. Call more, visit more. I love talking to her, or should I say listening to her. She's 96 and lived in a much different world than this supposedly "more advanced" state of western civilization. Cancer. Heart attack. Doctor Death. Some day he's coming for me. Better start working on the list before he gets here.