"I woke up with the birds again today... I have got to stop sleeping in the park." -Shoe.

When the poker game finally ended this morning at eight, with the loss of all my money, I stumbled drunkenly out onto the street, and into the nearest park. When I came to several hours later, a squirrel was licking my face. I was in a patch of shrubbery, whose main purpose appeared to be outdoor toilet facility. Amazingly, I had managed to avoid lying down in any of the many piles of shit, and none of the used toilet paper had blown onto me in my sleep. It was a small victory.

I crawled out of the bushes, and stumbled home. I was still incredibly drunk, and lurched conspicuously about amongst the well dressed, happy, day-time people. I finally woke up at about six this evening, and had to ask myself some hard questions. One, why the hell am I still doing this shit when I´m thirty, and if I continue living like this, how much longer will I get to live? Two, why the hell have I started smoking again after six years without a cigarette? Three, what makes me think that I can win money at poker, and why can´t I just walk away from the table like a normal person? Four, why am I such a completely useless alcoholic sack of shit?

Some might consider losing all your money, and then waking up surrounded by human feces to be, as they say in AA: "hitting rock bottom." Unfortunately I suspect that for me, it`s just another Monday night.