Earlier this evening, after more than a week of not eating solid food, I had a meal. A real meal. A cheeseburger, to be precise. After days and days of gnawing hunger I felt like God. For the first time in a long time I felt full instead of the somewhat warm feeling I get with "eating" broth.
Each bite of that cheeseburger was a snapshot in time. Shuffle them and watch it vanish. I nearly felt like filming me eating this thing, bite by sensuous bite, making orgasmic moans to anyone who cared to approach my car while I ate. I got mustard in my beard, but I had more important things to think about: getting this burger inside of me. My mouth felt like one big smear as I chomped down, able to identify each ingredient on its own in the mishmash of bolus in my mouth. The onions. The pickles. Oh my. OH MY.
I chewed every bit to sludge, and I sucked at every juice I found. I pressed the burger to the roof of my mouth to get every ounce of flavor out of it. Take a can of Coke and go back to the Dark Ages. Give that Coke to a peasant. Watch the sheer joy on that peasant's face. That's what I felt today in that McDonald's parking lot. Yes, it was a McDonald's burger, and it was ambrosia shipped direct from Mt. Olympus. By the time I'd swallowed the last of it and wiped my sodden face, I realized I now knew what a foodgasm feels like.
And it was fucking great.
I ate more later, and it was great, but it wasn't quite the same. All in all, I'm just glad that I can eat stuff again.
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