You know you are a drunken theorist when...

You know you are a drunken theorist when you're sitting among the constabulary and listening without hearing a single word; your expression poised for an outburst that results in no more than the rolling of another cigarette.

You know you are a drunken theorist when you wake up to an empty bottle and curse your employment, and the pad of paper you filled with only seven readable words amongst pages and pages of scrawling.

You know you are a drunken theorist when there isn't a single soul, on your constantly cursed mobile phone, that you feel like speaking to at any given moment.

You know you are a drunken theorist when you can read Sartre with a constant smile

You know you are a drunken theorist when you never switch off. The whiskey won't do it, the women won't do it, the wine won't do it. It just keeps on going. The struggle.

You know you are a drunken theorist when you refuse to donate any money to charities, other than those concerned with mental health, as you believe they are all imposing upon natural selection

You know you are a drunken theorist when your body and mind can survive off fruit and beer for three weeks solid.

You know you are a drunken theorist when you watch the most immediate members of society fall away from you. Literature is replaced with the idiot box, and music is converted into nonsense. Conversation turns into an abbreviated review of them both.

You know you are a drunken theorist when almost everything you see in the book shops, as you stumble around them, offers no more than a route of escapism for those foolish enough to waste their time trying to escape.

You know you are a drunken theorist when, despite all the goals and interests that are presented to you in life, all you want to do is think and drink.  

The End

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