too drunk to make any sense

or am i? What is the dividing line, that magical barrier that one cannot cross without sacrificing the ability to communicate? Do i even require such a badge, that of standards? surely the truly dedicated, the deliciously hardcore, will accept and absorb this message, this communique.
Here i sit, squat, rest in repose. while the world turns around me, while existence plays out in tones of clarity and beauty and wonder. Doomed am i, perhaps, to squander what wicked energy I've absorbed on fruitless vanity and decadent squalor? Is squalor even a word? Yes, children, I sit, here atop a throne of ridiculous concepts, of impossible indulgences, attempting to construct something out of nothing more than vapours and bad ideas. to be continued my sires, my offspring, my darlings.....