Dining at the End of the World:Week Three

This is the fourth entry of the “Dining at the End of the World” column series. It is recommended that you read the entries in order.  

#1 – The Beginning

#2 – Week One

#3 – Week Two

#4 – Week Three

#5 – Week Four

#6 – The Aftermath (Coming soon)

 

Day 15:

A couple of years ago I came into contact with a wild, purebred hippy.  So thorough and stereotypical was he in conversation and demeanor, that I at first thought I was witnessing some sort of street performance. He spoke to me about the hypocrisy of killing only certain animals for food and how, if we’d spent some time with the cows and pigs we were eating, we would come to love them as beloved pets. He claimed that our choices in meat are arbitrary and hypocritical, and that we might as well be eating Golden Retrievers or a person we run into on the street. I realize now that the dirty hippy was right. Indeed, if you approach the idea from an unbiased, pragmatic point of view, cannibalism makes a lot of sense.

I know that this comment might get a lot of flak from our readership, and to those of you who have been cannibalized or had someone dear to you cannibalized, I apologize for my insensitivity. For the record, I would never eat and kill another human being. However today, I did find myself eyeing a jogger while I was driving, and it worried me just how unlustily my mouth was watering. In my defense, some people just have a naturally, non-innuendo delicious look to them.

 

Day 17:

Today as I sat in my bed, I stared out my window as one might stare out a porthole at sea. The world makes me nervous now.  I am a nomad, clinging desperately to his oasis, daring to venture out only when necessity dictates. I feel a disconnect from the people around me. It’s like they became as unreal as the food they consume.

At this point it’s not even the hunger that’s getting to me. The hunger is a constant that I’ve come to accept. Hunger is the hum of a car as it drives down the road. Hunger is the wind in the air as it passes by my window. Hunger is little piece of corn shell that lodges on the back side of a molar after you’ve eaten popcorn. It’s always there, and there’s nothing to be done about it.  Rather, now the things that bother me are the results of more severe levels of hunger.

Yesterday I ate only about 420 calories. Sure, there was a bit of a biting emptiness, but nothing so severe as to bring about any pain. My hunger manifested itself in different ways. I was slow to make the connection, but I’ve been in absolutely horrid moods as of late. Laughter annoys me, questions inconvenience me and concern is practically an insult. I thought I was just having a bad day, as one is wont to do every now and again. However, my poor moods are far too regular at this point for it to be anything other than a hunger-induced grumpiness. All my life have I only been happy and pleasant because I was well-fed? Of course, we only need look at our politicians to immediately dispel any possibility of this being true.

 

Day 19:

Today I walked through the world of man like a ghost. As I passed by restaurants and grocery stores, I felt no pull. I’m free from desire, but I lack the spark of life that made the world a shiny, happy place. If I felt a pang of hunger, I would eat a palmful of banana chips or a couple of bites from a bowl of chili and rice. These are my reliable staples, satisfying enough to get me by with a bland enough taste to be able to resist taste fatigue. This is an illness that requires regular touch-ups and so long as I keep on the course, this will become only easier. Eating has become mechanical, like doing my homework (If I was the sort of person who did homework). This has become easier, but left me with a certain coldness.

 

Day 20:

Today I noticed a hair in my creamy wheat. Normally this wouldn’t be much of a concern, I’m not a stickler for cleanliness, and the hair had all the characteristics of the ones connected to my scalp. However, over the course of the meal I discovered two more, and I was reminded by the fact that I’ve been finding an inordinate amount of hair (non-pubic) in my food for a while now.

Now, this could be caused by any number of things. It might be that I always have a certain amount of hair in my food, and I’ve only now noticed it because of the sad, hopeless way I now stare at my food when I eat it. Or it might be because my hair is falling off my head due to malnutrition. Either prospect is upsetting in its own way.  My appetite suffered accordingly.

 

Day 21:

When I woke up this morning, I decided to weigh myself on the scale after a day of nothing but chocolate milk and a serving of creamy wheat. I was puzzled to find that I weighed two pounds heavier than I did the previous day. I came up with several embarrassingly uneducated theories regarding weight loss and malnutrition before I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I pooped.

For a brief and happy few minutes I convinced myself that I had finally become a 100 percent efficient human engine.  However, that suddenly became quite unlikely when I remembered I had a two pound weight gain. I suspect constipation, but I’m going to hold onto the idea of becoming superhuman. I think I need that hope.

 

Next : Dining at the End of the World:Week Four