Hunger has been his constant companion for 30 years, maybe longer. In his younger years it might have even been a real physical hunger when his earnings were meager and his drug habits were rumored to keep pace with the rock stars.

At some point the finances improved and the recognition came with the paycheques, but success can never get through to illuminate all the dark pits in the soul unless you shine your own searchlights. And so the hunger stayed with him.

It makes its demands on him that he does his best to satisfy, anything he can get his paws on and suck into his mouth, food or females, but that dull ache never relents. It drives him to chew people up and spit them out when they no longer bow down to him or can no longer feed him. It drives him to try to reach further, to excel more, while also driving him to self-destructive self-medication, something even the black-collared priest thought awe-inspiring.

I often wonder if in the middle of the night when he feels that dull ache eating away at him if he has ever seen the object of his craving with his mind’s eye as clearly as his stomach’s.