The most annoying sound known to man is the tapping of the fingers. I know this because I tend to tap my fingers on everything and anything I can possibly find. I like to see eyes twitch. Jaws clench. Hands fidget. Throats clear. People tell me to shut the fuck up. Sometimes I grow out my nails just to be more of a nuisance.
Books, coffee tables, reception desks, magazines at the dentist’s, the backs of friends, keys on my notebook, wine glasses, my face, water bottles, xerox machines, doors, piano keys, the wall against my bed, knee, baby’s stomach, coffins, thin air.
Anything works, really.
It’s always been that generic sort of tapping. You know the kind. Bring the fingers down, from the pinky to the index in perfect synchronization and speed. Those two are key. You must be in synch and have perfected the speed at which you allow your fingers to fall. If you can perfect this you will find it to be the most effective method of keeping yourself from shooting the cerebral, cortex, and cranium out of every single person around you. Because patience may be a virtue, but time sure as fuck isn’t.
Oh hello time
Usually when I’m tapping against a hard surface, I think of a horse running over cobblestone street. Or wooden bridge. Or the wild west dirt. Weird how their hooves seem to make the same noise no matter what the texture under them may be.
At least in the movies.
Sometimes rebellion hits me, and I break away from the generic finger tapping. I change the beat to something far more disoriented. I tap with the fingers on both hands. I use my finger knuckles. I start tapping with only two fingers. But, it’s never proved to be as satisfactory as tapping in that generic way.
So soothing. Move over, yoga.
I like the look of my hands when I’m doing this. My middle finger and index finger’s bones protrude out everytime the tips of those fingers hit whatever surface is below. There seems to be almost this ripple motion.
I’m not going to lie, I feel bad for my thumb sometimes. There are my fingers, tapping away …and my thumb is just left hanging there stiffly on the side. Sometimes I rest it on the surface, sometimes I leave it up.
Depends on my mood and if my thumb joint is up to it.
I’ve found that the tapping of fingers on my back in a slow, synchronized motion can really arouse me, while on my stomach can cause me to throw a fit of giggles. When done by someone else, of course.
There is a downside to all of this. I tend to bite my fingers more often than I’d like to, so unwanted attention is brought to my uneven, rough nails.I just don’t like the feeling of a file against my nails. Sometimes in the wrong lighting, you can even see the small dark hairs on my pale white skin over the metacarpal joints. I usually tweeze, but sometimes you just forget.
Tap, tap, tap.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
So synonomous.
Although it may bug the shit out of you when I tap my stubby fingers, you should thank them.
They keep me from killing you all.
