#570 Popping Noises

Sometimes I feel out of touch. A natural condition of age—you’re not quite sure about the younger species.
It’s a truism that the duty of every generation is to be as inexplicable as possible to the one immediately preceding it. But I thought as I got older I’d come around again.
Maybe if I was lucky, remember my own hormone-infused and confused years and be more sympathetic to the self-centeredness of youth. Revel in my space.
Sometimes kids are full of themselves. Like the news of this teenager in Germany.
Apparently he was in the intensive care ward and the incessant beeping of the life support machinery of the patient in the next cubicle was too loud and annoying.
So he unplugged it.
Fortunately, a nurse caught the situation before the guy died. The teenager had rolled over and gone back to sleep.
His space was quiet.
But I felt really old when I was emceeing a talent competition recently, and this teenager came up and said he was going to beatbox.
I thought he meant some sort of martial art thing. Some dancing to tae bo like in that Train song about dropping in on Jupiter.
But no.
It was spitting into a microphone.
I feel so out of touch. Spitting into a microphone is a talent?
And it is. This kid was awesome. He had the crowd mesmerized as he went through a variety of vocal contortions that made the place fill with pops and clicks and trills and percussive licks that totally belied the fact it was just a kid and a microphone.
He could have been a dolphin.
So I’m thinking maybe I should go to one of those somebody spaces everybody is talking about so I could get hep to that jive, man.
I don’t have a space of my own. The whole notion of myspace seems a little self-indulgent to guy who grew up in a small house with 3 siblings.
Can I just go to the web and vicariously live on someone else’s space? Or find a site with a gang of people and maybe lose myself in the crowd on theirspace?
That would be keen.
America ya gotta love it