I’m a touch man myself, but some people find the sound of its being cut and scraped soothing, too.
Instagram accounts devote entire feeds to the sensory pleasures of the stuff. It’s like watching an ice shelf collapse or a slow motion mudslide, minus the apocalyptic implications. Unlike its found-in-nature cousin, though, kinetic sand has a certain rubbery grace - it falls apart as cascading, interlacing strands because it actually contains silicone oil (2 percent of it the rest is natural sand). It’s hard to describe exactly what it feels like, though squeezing wet sand - its gloopy, semi-liquid state transforming into a solid when compacted - comes close. Instinctually, I grabbed the dirt by the fistful and experienced something close to tactile nirvana. That’s when I spotted Kinetic Sand, which at first glance looked like one of those desktop zen gardens. Nothing compared to my discovery, though, earlier this year while at the Brookstone in JFK. (If you’re in search of adorably springy faux food, the Japanese have perfected the form.) On that same vacation, I bought a squeezable Doraemon sushi keychain that I’ve since had to toss from overuse.
Last year, on a trip to the Japanese emporium Tokyo Hands, where you can find everything from a jaw exerciser to horse-oil soap, I left with nothing but a $20 stretchy baguette.
DESKTOP TOYS FOR OFFICE MANUAL
So when I can find things to occupy my manual fixation - smooshy, spongy, texturally satisfying things - I buy them. I’ll take off and wipe my glasses ad infinitum. I’ll pull my right earlobe and scratch the back of my scalp. When I’m anxious or trying to come up with an idea (or anxious about trying to come up with an idea), they start fidgeting.
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