This little piece of weirdness came out of a five minute exercise:

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Sometimes I type. I sit with my hands perfectly spaced, little j and f nubs under my index fingers. Sometimes I pretend to type and I sit with my hands poised as though ready for action, my brow furrowed as if I had been caught just that second in the middle of the very groundbreaking thought that would set the cardboard manufacturing industry on its ear.
I like to imagine everyone thinking, “Oh, how productive he is. That Johnson is a go-getter, he is.”
Tap tap tap.
Sometimes I type, but without intent. I just tappity tappity tappity with abandon, my mind off in the farthest reaches of time and space.
Sometimes the letters clump together and make all sorts of pretty shapes on the screen. Sometime words spontaneously appear within the noise. Sometimes they tell me things.
Tap tap tap.