Face it. There is nothing grand about it. No grand escapades, no great adventures, no grand encounters, not even great and grand tragedies. There are only two grand things in your life - overwhelming hypocrisy and your own repugnant mediocrity.
We have grand conversations, where poor excuses for an adventure are flimsily stitched together into a grand tale worth sharing. Worth sharing with a grand congregation of equally pathetic fools, grandly called a fuckin party, a misplaced hope that a ton of mediocrity at one place would somehow magically exceed its own limits and turn into something grand.
A hope that meaninglessly flailing arms and twitching legs to the nauseating beats of an idiot aiming to describe life, love and the entire universe in half a dozen words would add meaning to existence.
A hope that a drunken sermon, a pastiche of pop philosophy, cheap self help books and stylish movies, delivered by an all too obvious pseudo intellectual nescient idiot would suddenly show you something profound.
A hope that exchanged snippets of conversation about shared interests in deliberately chosen vague areas of art and sport would suddenly lead us out of this quagmire and show us the light. Exaggerated laughters, pointless screams, ad-campaign slogans - almost meant to shut out the din of a quaint voice deep within.
A fleeting moment of introspection, curiosity and the tiniest spark of intellectual activity doused out by an overwhelming desire to stop, show and tell. It is only strange how we all, with a heart rending straight face, admit how difficult the questions are and yet how easily we dispense with answers.
The Approval Junkie is well and alive.
