rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


I'm feeling quite the sloth at the moment, having spent two hours watching reruns of Bam Margera's show on MTV. I'm sure I could have made more productive use of that time, but the show invariably sucks me into its delightful world of childish destructiveness. Why could I not have been a skate punk? All those hours I spent in libraries, I could have been gathering scars and breaking bones. It's a bit disconcerting to realize at my age that I have an inner Bam, but life is full of surprises. At least I've never found myself to have an inner Charles Manson or an inner Tom DeLay. I must admit that I might have an inner Bill Gates, but it is my good fortune that my particular skills and talents are not particularly conducive to his emergence.

I also once thought that I had discovered my inner Gypsy Rose Lee, but it turned out that I'd only drunk too much that night, with the ultimate result that I nearly ended up without anything inner- stopping, I suspect, only just short of feeling something round and furry. While it's certain that I could do worse than having an inner Bam, I do believe that an inner William Carlos Williams, for one example, would do me more good. But I guess we don't get to choose our subconscious passions. In the end, I'm glad that there is an outer Bam, through whose publicly flaunted antics I am able to indulge those passions without exposing myself to any actual risk of physical harm, other than the possibility of laughing my ass off. I can only hope that the risk of psychological harm is also minimal. But I still feel a bit guilty about spending so much time at it.

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