Hungry Man

Just sitting on the Subway and feel compelled to blog. It's a real blessing that I can't connect to the internet on here. It's so easy for us to self medicate with short bursts of satisfaction and instant gratification. It's no wonder I have a hard time working when I'm "online". Too easy to sustain short pops of fulfillment then to work towards real accomplishments and deserved satisfaction.


Fulfillment. That brings me closer to the topic that prompted this entry. It's pretty late right now; 7:52 pm. I had lunch at Rich Tree with my buddy Phil and his wife at noon, and hadn't eaten since then. So I was HUNGRY. Really hungry. The kind of hungry that negates taste, and requires immediate rapid sustenance. I had a Koubi sandwich. But not a Lebanese Koubi. A Persian version, that, while it was good, did not ignite any hint of nostalgia for my Father's or Grandmother's Lebanese Koubi.

Something else lit the nostalgic feeling.


I really miss my Father right now. Not in the normal way where you think of some specific activity you miss. But the carnal spiritual way. The kind where, for brief moments, I'm 4 years old again and in his arms. Lying on his massive chest, listening to the air fill his impossibly large lungs, and trying my best to time my breathing with his.

My father is a good looking man. A lot of lady friends I know always make really awkward comments/compliments where they tell me that I have a hot future ahead of me because they think my Dad is a hot old guy. But even good looking people have ugly moments. My Dad turns into an animal when he eats. It's always fascinated me. I used to pride myself on gorging on large plates of food, and packing them away very quickly, because I wanted to be just like Dad. Later in life it became a sore spot for my sister. A point of embarrassment. But I always found it very endearing. After all, Dad was God for me growing up. Everything he did was perfect. And I wanted to be just like him. So seeing him when he was eating, was a rare glimpse into the humanity behind the God.

In my later teens and early 20's I became a bit enthralled with this concept. What happens to people when they get really hungry. How much of their survival instincts kick in and overpowers their trained social skills. I just broke one of my own cardinal rules. I ate some stank ass food on a crowded train in front of people. And I didn't pay a lot of attention to how nice I looked while I was doing it.

Hunger broke down my social armor, and turned me back into the animal my species once was. And in many ways underneath all the fluff still is!


I've been passively planning a photo series for years now. I want to do side by sides of people. One classic "head shot" portrait, where I use all of my skills to make the person look their very best. And then, beside that, a photo of them stuffing their face! I think there's a great truth in the face of a person who is truly hungry, and eating just to live. Not a fancy sit down meal, but a real, "I need to get all of whatever this is down my neck ASAP" experience.

If hunger can break the perfection of my father into a dribbling sloppy savage, then it must do the same for everyone.


So in this moment of sustenance, when I was breaking my own social rules, and forcibly feeding myself in a frantic bid for survival, I felt myself reconnecting with my Father. Very vivid and carnal connection. Like, I could FEEL him with me. The way you can feel a parent or teacher when they are leaning over your shoulder. You don't see or touch them, but it's very apparent they are there, in your space. I felt him with me while I was eating on the train.


I see his humanity reflected as my own. His vulnerability is mine. His love and care for his family, and his desire to feed us properly (Dad did all the cooking in the house) resonates with great truth. I feel a humility and am humbled by the great sacrifices he made in order to give me the life I am so blessed to live.


So on this train ride, as I finish feeding myself, and look up to realize I'm on a train packed full of people, I had to get this out of my system.

It's now 8:23... I'm on the bus. The internet is connected, tweetie is open and telling me there is new content to read with it's little blue light. Instant gratification awaits, and the food has finished delivering it's energy to me. I no longer feel the weakness. My shield is back up.

But I'm glad I took time while the window of weakness and humanity were open, to express the vulnerable animal I have inside.


And to thank my Father.



Love you Dad.