Wallpaper.
I don't have a gun.
In any case though, apparently women tend to leap to their deaths, when committing suicide (La Petite Soldat - Jean Luke Godard. (No offence to those who have a special place in their hearts for the razor blade. (Ah we just love flinching at the idea. (I dare you to visualise something graphic. (No I'm not a friggin masochist, I'm a writer, and I'm trying to shock you.) So a gun wouldn't be much use then...funny though, that someone should bring that up. 'Tis true that it is feminine, but I doubt the appeal has anything to do with cowardice personally...I think the act of leaping is defined by leaping away from and leaping to. Fleeing and seeking some 'measure of release and comfort from the receiving end of the leap. It's also more impulsive, urgent and poetic in its motion...then again I can suck meaning and melancholy out of a theme park ride. Sheer nonsense. Hence my fondness of cynical, railing characters like Jaques (As You Like It- The Bard.) He tha man!...Because he is an intellect and a miserable git. In fact, I must go home and extract some quotes from the play, specifically the one about sucking melancholy, and make them mine own.

Alex, Andreus and the other loud, funny, Norwegian dude just walked into the office, in very selfconciously sharp suits and have promptly started shedding jackets and ties... Ah that's better, they're back to their usual scruffy selves now... Andreus just winked at me. He's nice...but can someone please tell me what it means when men do that? Is it ok for me to continue idiotly smiling back, as I do? I'm not being paranoid, I'm just wondering if I'm being naive.

Woohoo! Amy asked if I'd help her out with something else after lunch! I'm free of the Wallpapers! (Al)

I leave you now, for I must be off to our Beenie-spotting lunch with Shakila, who txs me that she is dying of boredom.

Miyavi love, all around.
Over and out.