Big Dog Robot

This is testing my sense of life

Just Kill It Already

Is it ever appropriate to tell someone else to break up with their (in)significant other? I mean, if they are being beaten or abused, then duh, but I mean just based on the general trials of relationships. I mean, it is sort of arrogant to say, "I've heard one side of this story, and I can make a serious decision based on that." Also, it is foolish to say, "Well, because my similarly based relationship failed and needed to fail, I think that yours should, too." It's hard to tell someone that they should not be with who they are with, even if it seems so obvious to me. So I try not to. I try to lead the person to my own conclusion by laying out what it is that I see from the outside, since they are often blinded by the experience. However, I am aware that they will not always draw the same conclusion, as evidenced by the 30 different understandings obtained by the 30 different people all sitting in the same lecture. I'm not JUST talking about Ash or Adam here, but people in my life in general. Oh, I need to go to Body Positive. Later yo.

Raerae text back and forth

Here was the sexy back and forth that just went down:

Me: ..."It's calm. Peaceful."
Her: "The calm before the storm."
Me: "Lol, the storm is passing for me. May!"
Her: "X-/"
Me: "LOL. Don't worry, i won't forget you."
Her: "Suuuuuuure."
Me: "I could never forget you raerae!"
Her: "Yeah, right..."
Me: "at the risk of sounding something, with a figure like your71 your impression isn't going anywhere soon."
Her: "I think the little of a figure i have is slowly disappearing"
Me: "Well then i should appreciate it as much as i can before it's gone."
Her: "I'm gonna have to start working out"
Me: "Me too. This just got way hotter than i was expecting, lol."

Just checking in

Some things work out in weird ways. I hate being/sleeping alone, but I can spend extended periods of time largely by myself and be totally content. I can sit in a coffee shop or tea house for 5 or 6 hours filling out crossword puzzles and watching people. I hate walking next to a girl without touching her.

I've changed some strategies. Whereas all girls think that they value honesty and forwardness, they don't actually value it in the same way that they value animal attraction and cheesy game. Once I would have been the best listener she'd ever met, but then also possibly the best friend she'd ever stood to gain. I'm aware. Now I am young, dumb, and more or less full of cum, I guess. I can still listen like a fuckin' fox, but instead of responding, "maybe you should give your ex another chance," I'm going to be straight up like, "He's an idiot for not appreciating you." I mean, to whom do I hold loyalties, and why don't I hold them to myself? I still will never LIE to a girl, but if she stands to benefit as much from me as from someone else, I'm going to stop martyring. This is already working, to a certain degree. I think that I have Raerae confused, which is actually good for me. She was fairly sure that she didn't want to get into anything too quickly, but I think that she might be reconsidering, now that she knows how rad I am. We flirt. I say WE. I mean, I definitely do it more and more often, but she doesn't respond the way that an uncomfortable girl would. The other difference would be that in the past I would ask over and over if it was okay to flirt with her, and if she was comfortable and all that. Fuck that. I am going to do it even if it makes her uncomfortable. If she can't handle it, then we'll fall apart, but maybe that's best in that case. However, what if she CAN handle it? Then I win. Or we both do, or something.

Holy crap, the old wannabe Stevie Nicks playing guitar here at Bunna is now singing the weirdest cover of "The Reason" (Hoobastank maybe?) ever. It's actually better than the real song, but that isn't a tremendously difficult thing to accomplish. I just sneezed and it was better than the original. How that jerk won a songwriting award for that crap blows my mind.

Here's the list, in order:
Raerae
Hana
Delux
Tea
Coffee
Ironwoman
Granola

If any of those names are foreign to you, it's either because I haven't mentioned them (Delux), or you aren't paying enough attention.

Raerae: Duh, see this entry and the one before it.
Hana: I liveblogged about her and Tea, who both work at Mandala.
Delux: Plain Jane working at Lux.
Coffee: Cutest girl ever. Works at Bunna.
Ironwoman: Sold me these here running shoes.
Granola: Scary Eye's roommate. She has become rather boring.

So yeah, Granola is boring. She wakes up at like 2 or 3 and sits around until she goes to sleep again. She doesn't work or go to school. With all due respect, when you do so little with your day, you aren't going to have much to talk about. And she doesn't. Nothing is ever up nor is it ever new. Although it usually IS the plan for the day. Ugh.

Oh yeah, Carebear turned out to be part of a Bible study at our shop, which is for some reason a huge turnoff for me. I mean, I'm all for reading the Bible, but I hate the "four girls talking about Jesus and feminism" setup of their group. She is still cute as a ladybug, so if I think that she'll accept an advance, I'll extend one, but I don't necessarily plan on doing so now.

I'm looking for houses now. I'm about two weeks early, but I'm looking anyways. I'm looking in Tempe, South Scottsdale, North Chandler, and West Mesa, in that order. I've found some pretty promising listings already, so I think we'll be able to get something sort of nice. It shall be myself, Ashlee, and Lou Bega, so I'm hoping for a 4 bedroom (spare for storage) or a big 3 with a den or garage or something. My preferred neighborhood would really be the Maple Ash area that is just SouthWest of University and Mill. I want to sort of be near happenings, and people our age. I think Ashlee feels the same way. Lou Bega just wants to be somewhat closer to any semblance of an arts scene, since such a thing is completely absent from our area now. I'm excited. I want to have sex with some girl and have BOTH of them hear it. Not for any sort of pervy excitable reason like I get off on it, I just think that'll be funny. I'm also totally getting a sex gong. I think that being the age that I am, sex sort of loses its sacred aspect and becomes a little more fun, since now essentially every girl that I meet will have had sex at least once previous to me. Does that make sense? I mean that a virgin or a girl for whom I was her first might be offended by a sex gong, but a girlie who isn't so embarrassed by it would probably just think I'm a dummy, then roll over and go to sleep. Which I'm okay with. Lou B and I have been laughing about the idea for a long time, so I think it's definitely going to have to happen now at the new place. Especially since we will both be college graduates. I plan to help Loubiez get some, somehow. I am really pestering him about joining the gym and going with me. He says that he just wants to run, but honestly, I am going to be running a lot less than previously. I want to focus more on physical appearance than athletic ability, so running will become just one of the many things that I do. Whatever.

I told Raerae that she inspired me. She has what I think is a totally hot body/nearly perfect build. Broad-ish shoulders, small ribcage and waist, but WITH hips. Long legs, too. Big calves. Doesn't SOUND sexy, but it IS. I felt sort of lacking, for sure. She also told me about her friend Glenn (who is my primary competition for her panties...err, I mean heart) who is an Air Force ROTC guy who works out like a madman and has aspirations of becoming a test pilot, and then an astronaut, which is like growing up to become Mick Jagger with a huge dick, ya know? I can't beat that even if I DO cure cancer/AIDS. Fuck him. Maybe he'll become an alcoholic or meth addict due to the pressure. See, now this is a situation where traditionally I'd be like "Raerae, for reals, Glenn is great, and he treats you well, right? You sort of like him? Well, why don't you go out with him and see how it works? If it doesn't really play out, then maybe we could go out." Anyways, so I told her that her mild self hate (she doesn't like her body, and thinks that she could lose a few pounds) inspired me to also hate myself enough to make a change. So I'm going to try. Again. For reals. Laugh Out Loud. Lots Of Laughs. Look Out Lucy!

Okay, time to do this midterm I guess.

The Reason lyrics (Hoobastank)

I'm not a perfect person
There's many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you

I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
Thats why i need you to hear

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is You [x4]

I'm not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you

I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you

Raerae pt 1

So I feel like I need to give some semblance of a background to Raerae, since there is indeed a background:

She went to St. Greg's in 5th and 6th grade, though I honestly don't really remember anything other than that she was there. She left and went to St. Agnes, and then St. Mary's for high school. Even though I still hung out with a lot of my friends who went to St. Mary's, and I in fact made NEW St. Mary's friends at various social outings(I went to Bourgade), I never ran in to Raerae.

Then, I think senior year, but I may be wrong, I went to Mary Coyle's with Blaise to see our friend Vanessa O. She actually wasn't there, but we sat down to eat anyways. We were being waited on by some random girl when I noticed this tall drink of soy milk standing behind the counter in my peripheral vision. Upon further swiveling of my head, it occurred to me that I knew this bitch. I asked the waitress if that girl was indeed the Raerae of my childhood, which she confirmed. I remember turning to Blaise at this time and saying, "Dude, Raerae is a stone cold fox!"

So I of course spend many moons going to Mary Coyle's to flirt with her, usually in the form of crayon drawings on the backs of paper place mats and the such. She flirted every so often as well, and we exchanged AOL/AIM sns and maybe emillz. We kept in loose touch, but I think that by the time Julee rolled around I had kind of checked out.

Fast forward to about a month or two ago. She ims me out of nowhere and we start talking again. I hear about how she and her gooftroop boyfriend are having issues. I honestly don't do anything to encourage the demise of the relationship. Instead, I just advise her as I'd advise anyone. I just ALSO flirt with her in a way that gooftroop didn't. So whatevz. About a week and a half ago or something she essentially breaks up with gooftroop (I say essentially, because though SHE is done and out, she's not sure that he actually grasps that they've broken up yet), and since I am apparently super skeezy, I immediately say, "We should go out!" Now, to redeem myself a touch, she didn't even hesitate to say, "Yeah! Totally!" Also, we have NEVER hung out before, so it seemed appropriate.

We went out last night. I picked her up around 7:15 or something, and as always, I came bearing gifts: A box of Clif Bars. Four Oatmeal Raisin, Four Peanut Butter Crunch. She texted me like three days prior JUST to tell me how those two flavors of Clif Bar are the best snacks and how much she loves them. So I mean, it wasn't just a random ass gift or anything. Blah blah blah, we go to Cibo, which is as "Urban Pizzeria" in downtown Phoenix (NE Corner 5th ave and Fillmore). It was super good, and actually very quick, despite most of the personal reviews that I've heard that claim it to be extremely slow. She got basically a meat and potatoes pizza, though I can't remember what it was called. It had roasted potato and some sort of Italian sausage I think. I got the four cheese, which was mind blowing. It had gorgonzola. Uh, best cheese ever? No, not quite, but pretty damn close.

Then, we drove over to Lux for a nice apres cena apertif. She had a machiatto, traditional. Hardcore (her drink is just a shot of espresso and a dollop of foam). I had a double soy latte, which was very good indeed. We hung out until they closed, just talking and laughing and such. Then we get in the car, and we just drive. I took her to some of my favorites: the chess house, the penis house in biltmore, the ivy house in biltmore, my grandparents' house (though we stayed outside), and then fountain hills. First, we stopped at the church parking lot, because it has a cool view. Then we went to the lake and stood looking at the calm waters and talked. It was like 1am, and they stop the fountain at 9pm normally, but all of a sudden the fountain explodes. I lament that it isn't quite as high as I remember, though she is still impressed. THEN, it explodes to about twice the height and really blows our minds. It was rather beautiful and romantic, as it is bottom lit, and it was otherwise pitch black. We stood there talking while it ran its course (like 15 minutes of constant fountaining), and then enjoyed its ceasing. We leave then and take the 87 to the 202 and I take her home. It's almost 2am at this point, and I hug her goodnight.

She texts me as I'm driving home with, "Ok, i have to say thank you again, i really had a good time, next time remind me to wear actual shoes though...:)"

We texted a little before I fell asleep.

What's see let's new?

I'm at Mandala. Leslie was here earlier, it was nice. We talked about stuff, and whatever or something. Tea just high stepped. She is wearing vegan shoes: denim or fabric something uppers, woven lowers, cute. She has a navy skirt with some sort of non-ethnic traditional based design on it. A little new orleans, a little greek, a little polynesian, a touch of new wave france. Her hair is partially obscured by a teal/purple sort of fro cap thing. She has a black shirt on. She is rolling silverware, and I just told her that I'm liveblogging about her rolling silverware, but I think she didn't take me seriously. Hana is too hilarious. "Blog blog blog" she says. She finished rolling silverware. Tea dances a little. "I just want to dance" she says to no one. She isn't kidding. She moves with the rhythm of something else, like if a young tree (sapling) could uproot and sway and jive as it wished. Or maybe it's more like an animal, like a young lion, or an unusually graceful giraffe, though she isn't long or tall. Just like a well placed and rhythmic animal or plant. Hana has disappeared. She reappears. She peaks at my screen, and skips away when I say that I'm writing about her. I wonder if she is aware now that everything she does entires a collective consciousness. It already did, I think, but now it's physical. This time, it's personal. They rolled the silverware with rhythm as well. Maybe that's what it is. Beat and tempo. The speed or lack thereof. The spaces in between must be important in places such as this that strive to be something in the midst of something that they aren't. Scottsdale loves the surface.

It always looks darker from inside of here when I look out. That's too obvious. They whisper now, when they did not before. Tea is overly expressive, but it's good. She isn't afraid to stretch when she needs to either. Hana (by the way, this is actually spelled hannah, but hana is more fun/appropriate in this case) is good at her job, and likes what she does, but I think there is more. I think she is unsatisfied, but afraid of being so. I'm not sure in what way she is dissatisfied, but I think it is a general malcontentedness that does NOT come through at all. OR maybe she really is this balanced and happy. I don't think so, but I may just be wrong. She is the type of girl that if she were to fancy me, it would reflect positively on me. I wish she did, in fact. Although, that may be true of either of them. They are both resume boosters, but not in the cold way. They are Harvard or Yale maybe? No. Peace Corps. Universally loved, I would think, and to have been a part of it makes you better. That must be who they are. I think. I hope. I'm pretty sure though.

I think that they are the types that I just assume are constantly hounded by guys. I mean, they aren't traditional, nor are they traditionally Scottsdale, but that's why they are good. They are beautiful, and interesting, and the guys who come here must fall in love with frequency. Maybe I'm wrong. I kind of want to ask, but that sounds like a come-on. I'll find out someday. Tea just made an intense face, because she knows what I'm doing. Cute. Hana carries plates with food but she is also on her cell phone. Her neck is bendy. It sort of bugs me how that partition is missing a piece, but it also makes a lot of sense, and I appreciate its character. I just wonder how that even happened.

So I'm also fairly certain that the way that I read people instantly IS accurate, despite recent waverings in my confidence. I was right about a girl's guy, and I was right about granola (I did not write about this yet). I hate that people consider me arrogant when I tell them about this. I AM BETTER at this than other people, even though everyone thinks that they can do what I do. I DO THINK better than most people that I meet. I comprehend differently. I almost never take something in the way that my company does.

So apparently Tea rides. She actually knows things. We just talked about fixies and wheels and she actually dropped some brands that are known only by those who know. A trillion cool points.

I've decided that I hate liveblogging. This is done.

Granola V

Okay, so I had sort of already stepped out of interest in Granola, since she told me that she just wanted to be friends. I was only slightly disappointed, though, since I found her only mildly attractive (if she didn't have bangs, she'd be like ten times better), and moderately interesting. I guess I didn't feel like I was losing out on much, but I was of course slightly offended that after she met me she did not want to pursue anything. ANYWAYS, the point being that I was mostly done with her.

Lou Bega and I stopped by on Saturday night, and we all played some lame ass games and talked/laughed/whatever since I was only looking at Granola as another girl in the room. This apparently ignited some fires in her girl crotch (Scary Eye's hilariously prudish term for vajayjay), and she asked me out the next day.

So "the next day" was last night. We went to Three Margaritas, then drove around Tempe a little bit (tempe marketplace, dutch bros. coffee, petsmart) and headed back to her place. I had decided that she was going to have to win ME over, so I was just sort of shooting the shit all night long. I think that my hard to get bullshit is totally working her over, since she claims that all guys normally love her. She is the type that attracts extraordinarily weird dudes who profess undying love and threaten to kill themselves and say that they are going to marry her after one date. She also claims that she is really good in bed, which is intriguing, but unconsequential. So whatever. I guess that Scary Spice has told her that I only think she is cute, and since I won't ever commit to dates with her (I always tell her that I'll have to call her the day of, because I'm not sure yet), she is just like driven crazy.

Anywho, I forgot what else I was going to say, but I'd like to mention that Raerae is single now. An entry on her later, I think.


"Oh, I don't know why you're not there
I give you my love, but you don't care
So what is right and what is wrong
Gimme a sign"

"What Is Love"
Haddaway

Granola IV

Okay, so Granola asked me out on a date. What?

Big Hair Little Hair

I had most of my hairs cut tonight. Probably all of them. Mohawky sort of thing. I like it, but I imagine most other people won't. That's fine. I'll bet Carebear'll hate it, but she'll be kind of intrigued, too. Have I introduced Carebear yet? I don't think so. She is a customer crush. My next love. Surely.

Neutral Milk Hotel's Legacy

The Salinger of Indie Rock: What happened to Jeff Mangum?
By Taylor Clark
Posted Tuesday, Feb. 26, 2008, at 1:45 PM ET
Jeff MangumJeff Mangum

Ten years ago this month, a songwriter from nowhere and his ramshackle band brought out one of the few truly great albums of this generation, a musical curio so gloriously odd that it almost defies explanation. The group called itself Neutral Milk Hotel, and the record, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, is a concept album about Anne Frank in which vocals about lost Siamese twins and semen-stained mountaintops mingle with the sounds of musical saws, fuzzy tape loops, and an amateur psychedelic brass band. It seems like a formula that would blister your eardrums, yet Aeroplane is a gorgeous, much adored work of art. In 2003, the alternative music magazine Magnet dubbed it the best album of the past decade—better than Nirvana, better than Radiohead.

While the record sells better today than ever, you won't see Neutral Milk Hotel onstage anytime soon because, for all intents and purposes, they've vanished into thin air. At the end of Aeroplane's final song, you can hear Jeff Mangum—the band's singer, songwriter, and all-around mastermind—set down his guitar and walk off, and, minus a few months of under-the-radar touring, that's exactly what Mangum did in real life. When the major labels and the glossy magazines and the half-crazed fans came calling, Mangum never responded. There was no breakup announcement, no reason given for the radio silence—he just faded out. After a decade of speculation, sightings, and hoaxes, his story remains a mystery: Why did he decide to disappear? And where has Mangum gone?

Even before his public vanishing act, Mangum was something of an elusive character. Raised in the arts vortex of Ruston, La., he bristled at his hometown's jocks-and-booze ethic and hoped from an early age to unchain his creative spirit. In the early '90s, Mangum and a few friends formed a now-legendary collective called Elephant Six, which grew to encompass dozens of strangely named bands creating eclectic music mostly for their own enjoyment. Yet Mangum himself seldom stayed in one place for long; he constantly hopped from city to city, acoustic guitar in hand. At home in the collective's base of Athens, Ga., or out on his peregrinations, Mangum cut a strange figure: a long-locked, intense-looking man with a gale-strength singing voice who liked to wear garish thrift-store sweaters and embellish the cuffs of his pants with cartoon sketchings.
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Because he suffered from night terrors, Mangum often stayed up until dawn working on his songs, sometimes addressing them to the ghosts in a haunted closet. At first, this method produced modest results: His first album, On Avery Island (1996), showed flashes of promise but had its sludgy and spotty patches. One day, Mangum wandered into a bookstore and happened upon a copy of Anne Frank's The Diary of a Young Girl. The book consumed him. After finishing it, he spent a few days crying over Frank's story. As he told a Puncture magazine interviewer before Aeroplane's release, "I would go to bed every night and have dreams about having a time machine and somehow I'd have the ability to move through time and space freely, and save Anne Frank. Do you think that's embarrassing?" The songs and lyrics he started writing about Frank could be so nightmarish in vision that Mangum grew afraid of what was issuing from his brain: verses about "pianos filled with flames" and eating "tomatoes and radio wires." At times, he seems possessed, singing on Aeroplane's title track, "Anna's ghost all around/ Hear her voice as it's rolling and ringing through me."

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is so expansive in its weirdness that one of its 11 songs is a rollicking bagpipe jam—yet it would be wrong to call it a "cult" record, since that would imply it's some sort of flawed art-school project. Sure, Aeroplane occasionally sounds like a mariachi circus fed through a broken amplifier, but it all weaves together as Mangum guides the proceedings with percussive guitar strumming, singalong melodies, and his booming, emotive voice. The album plays like a document from a parallel-universe version of the 1940s, inlaid with Mangum's haunting lyrics: "And here's where your mother sleeps/ And here is the room where your brothers were born/ Indentions in the sheets/ Where their bodies once moved but don't move anymore." Aeroplane isn't about airtight instrumentation or tricky songwriting—most of the songs have just three or four chords—but about a remarkable range of feeling put into melody. (Mangum recorded his part of the song "Oh Comely" in one scratch take, at the end of which you can hear a stunned band member yell "Holy shit!" in the background.)

When Aeroplane first debuted, sales took a while to warm up. Those who found the record would appear at shows and (to the annoyance of many audience members) collectively drown out Mangum's singing with their own rendition, but this was still indie music's dark, pre-blog era. By the time magazines started paying attention, toward the end of 1998, Mangum already had one foot out the door. Worn down by months of touring, he grew fed up with discussing himself and explaining his lyrics, eventually declining to accept any calls—yet friends say he still fixated on every word written about him. As his bandmates pressed him to capitalize on Neutral Milk Hotel's success, he withdrew more and more. When R.E.M. offered a chance to open for them, he said no. And for the last decade, that's nearly all he's said.

As Aeroplane's legend began to build, Mangum kept himself busy by having a total nervous breakdown. Laura Carter, his then-girlfriend, told the Atlanta alt-weekly Creative Loafing that he spent entire days sitting in his house in a state of near panic, wearing a pair of old slippers and doing absolutely nothing. He became paranoid, hoarding rice for the inevitable post-Y2K apocalypse. Since 1998, Mangum has rejected every interview request save one 2002 conversation with Pitchfork in which he explained his meltdown. "I went through a period, after Aeroplane, when a lot of the basic assumptions I held about reality started crumbling," he said. One of those assumptions was that music would somehow erase his problems. "I guess I had this idea that if we all created our dream we could live happily ever after," he continued. "So when so many of our dreams had come true and yet I still saw that so many of my friends were in a lot of pain … I saw their pain from a different perspective and realized that I can't just sing my way out of all this suffering."

It took Mangum years to rebuild himself after this spiritual crisis—and since part of that crisis was his recognition that music would never save him from his demons, he couldn't very well embark on another record. So he wandered the globe to find spiritual balance, even spending time in a monastery. (Aeroplane's steady sales helped finance the quest; the album still moves a reported 25,000 copies a year.) Occasionally, Mangum flitted ever so briefly into the public eye. He released a disc of field recordings of Bulgarian folk music, then disappeared. Calling himself "Jefferson," he hosted a late-night radio show on New Jersey's WFMU a few times until he was discovered, then vanished once again. Sometimes he'll appear onstage at friends' rock shows for a song, sending the crowd into paroxysms—but when those friends suggest he record his own music, they say he becomes evasive.

Mangum's continued silence has angered some fans, who accuse him of being selfish or "indifferent to his talent," as if musical ability comes with some sort of obligation to society. At least once a year, someone writes a hoax message from Mangum and posts it online—generally throwing in some fanciful verbal junk to bilk fans into believing it's the genius himself wielding the keyboard. Some have announced forthcoming records or tours, while others have revealed the long-hidden sources of Mangum's misanthropy; they've all been debunked. All we really know for sure is this: According to his record label, Mangum now lives in New York City. He recently married filmmaker Astra Taylor. Friends say he still creates art and that he seems "very happy." If he has plans to record more music, he hasn't told anyone.

And if Aeroplane really is Jeff Mangum's final statement to the universe, maybe we should be happy with that—not because of some tired line about going out at your peak (which he likely didn't reach), but because his story is a kind of modern fable. Many fans see his disappearance only in selfish terms: They've been deprived of more great music for no good reason. They can't understand why Mangum would shun success just to shuffle through his days, and, indeed, when musicians abandon this much promise, the culprit is usually drugs or debilitating accidents or people named Yoko. So he must have gone nuts, right? Well, no. After all, what if Mangum is just being honest? What if he poured his life into achieving musical success only to discover that it wasn't going to make him happy, so he elected to make a clean break and move on? We should all be so crazy.

As always, though, hope for Mangum's return still glimmers. Last month brought news that he may play a guy in a lobster suit in a soon-to-be-released conceptual film. But who knows? You can't see inside the suit.