I am and have for a long time now been a restroom-stall toe-tapper. There's precious little of my time when I can't find an unoccupied corner of my mind to devote to music composition, to songwriting, to kicking around rhythms, melodic bits, harmonic shifts and lyrical slips. Especially when one is deeply engaged on the commode, what else is there to do but let the mind wander and the creativity loose?
Yeah. I write songs on the crapper. If a good bit sticks to the inside of my skull, after the flush and long enough for me to soap up and wash hands, towel-try and walk back (whistling and skipping) to my hard-core workstation - and boy, I assure you, I become grimmer with every step! My face sets with work-hardened determination!, but I will take a second aside as I slide into my power chair, to jot down or record whatever snippet proved worthy to stick. And then it's back to work!
So yes, when I'm sitting there on the shitter, mind running permutations on musical formulae, you damn better bet I get my toe tapping to the tune only I can hear, as it tumbles itself into a more fully-cohered composition!
Now imagine my surprise at this next part. And to some of you, who haven't heard about this, I apologize for the indelicacy of what I'm about to reveal to you. But it's something I need to tell you, because frankly, it's kind of rude. Kind of presumptuous.
Apparently, toe-tapping, when seated in a restroom stall, is considered to be "code move," to signal others as to your willingness to participate in an oral sex act. Yes. It's true. It's been agreed, without my knowledge! Nobody cleared this by me! It was all worked out behind my back, but supposedly the fact of me innocently, joyously tapping my toes now means that I sign on for this. Giving or getting, I don't know. I'm guessing giving, because otherwise you pretty much wouldn't need an arranged signal would you? Whose toe wouldn't be tapping! Willing recipients are always going to outnumber willing donors.
But that's still bullshit, because what a dumb signal! NO SALE! I'm sure I can't be the only person who has music in his mind and soul, tappin' the toe a bit as I do what I came there for. And now I'm second-guessing all those moments of friendly decency, people you bump into on the way out. "Hey. How you doing?" "HEY, man! I'm doing great! Thanks for asking!" - vwoop out the door! And I'd be walking away all happy, "wow, that total stranger sure seemed friendly! Hope for the world yet!"
I feel horrible about the whole thing. I must have been getting a whole lot of hopes up, over the years! And then - DASH.
Well unfortunately, that's too bad. I won't stop tapping. I got the music in me.
Yeah. I write songs on the crapper. If a good bit sticks to the inside of my skull, after the flush and long enough for me to soap up and wash hands, towel-try and walk back (whistling and skipping) to my hard-core workstation - and boy, I assure you, I become grimmer with every step! My face sets with work-hardened determination!, but I will take a second aside as I slide into my power chair, to jot down or record whatever snippet proved worthy to stick. And then it's back to work!
So yes, when I'm sitting there on the shitter, mind running permutations on musical formulae, you damn better bet I get my toe tapping to the tune only I can hear, as it tumbles itself into a more fully-cohered composition!
Now imagine my surprise at this next part. And to some of you, who haven't heard about this, I apologize for the indelicacy of what I'm about to reveal to you. But it's something I need to tell you, because frankly, it's kind of rude. Kind of presumptuous.
Apparently, toe-tapping, when seated in a restroom stall, is considered to be "code move," to signal others as to your willingness to participate in an oral sex act. Yes. It's true. It's been agreed, without my knowledge! Nobody cleared this by me! It was all worked out behind my back, but supposedly the fact of me innocently, joyously tapping my toes now means that I sign on for this. Giving or getting, I don't know. I'm guessing giving, because otherwise you pretty much wouldn't need an arranged signal would you? Whose toe wouldn't be tapping! Willing recipients are always going to outnumber willing donors.
But that's still bullshit, because what a dumb signal! NO SALE! I'm sure I can't be the only person who has music in his mind and soul, tappin' the toe a bit as I do what I came there for. And now I'm second-guessing all those moments of friendly decency, people you bump into on the way out. "Hey. How you doing?" "HEY, man! I'm doing great! Thanks for asking!" - vwoop out the door! And I'd be walking away all happy, "wow, that total stranger sure seemed friendly! Hope for the world yet!"
I feel horrible about the whole thing. I must have been getting a whole lot of hopes up, over the years! And then - DASH.
Well unfortunately, that's too bad. I won't stop tapping. I got the music in me.
Comments
"Is an attempted mouth-rape worth total penile decapitation?" And oh yes. In that situation, you bet I'd swallow. There would be nothing left to reattach.
Then while the other party was making the mental adjustment to his (formerly his) new condition, I'd hit back many, many more times than would be necessary for mere incapacitation.
If all that seems a bit hard core, I apologize, but as a feminist I have absolutely no tolerance for a rapist.
"Hey. Don't try to walk out of here buddy!"
"What?!"
"You were toe-tapping. Time to pay the piper."
I'm not impressed with the risk of that happening. And if it did, I'd be extremely grateful to God for handing me the chance to remove a predator from the prey-stream.
I was trying to lighten the tone with that second post.
Sorry!
I tend to take a tangent and build a cathedral on it sometimes.