Stop eating fruits, stop eating vegetables, it's doing something bad to you. Fruits and vegetables will seduce you, like a woman

Some final impressions of Kuala Lumpur. My cab for the airport leaves in a few hours, and I've spent the day doing some last minute shopping and now just hanging out at a café with the laptop and a lemon ice tea, watching people walk by. I'm actually sitting outside, on a roofed patio, so no AC but plenty of fans around.

Began my day with the usual killer breakfast. Perfectly scrambled eggs, beef bacon, a waffle and heaps and heaps of fresh fruit.

The remains of the fruit table at breakfast after my meal
I did another walk through Sungei Wang. Now, there are a lot of shopping malls in downtown Kuala Lumpur. Not be missed are Plaza Low Yat for electronics, Suria KLCC at Petronas Towers for just about any kind of shopping (but especially for the huge bookstore on the top level) and Pavilion if you want designer brands and those Japanese pastries. I haven't even checked out a few, like the even more upscale Starhill Gallery.

The best one though was Sungei Wang. It's a warren of stores and small restaurants, that gets more interesting the higher you get. On the top floor you can get a tshirt or a top for 10 ringit, about 20 kronor, as long as you don't try it on. There was a big arcade hall, with rows of old school fighting games, most of them completely incomprehensible. Young men hunched over the games or standing around, smoking, their hairdos like something out of manga. This is where they go to kill digital things when they don't find that graphics card they were hunting for at Low Yat.

The best store by far, for me at least, was street wear store Echo Park, which was also in a couple of other malls that I've been to. I now have a membership card there for some obscure reason that I really wasn't able to figure out from what the guy working there told me.

Lunch today consisted of fried dumplings, one serving with veggies and one with mystery meat. When I ordered the ten dumplings the waitress looked at me, confused, and said "Is all?". I nodded yes, is all. She made a face and walked away.

This reminded me of the Mexican place where my brother, my parents and I ate somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the US back in 2005, where the staff seemed to mock us in Spanish when we only ordered one dish each. Around us, 300 pound Mexicans that had tables full of food. So I looked around at this place too, and noticed tiny Malaysians with three or even four dishes each, with rice on the side, and here I had only ordered two. The dumplings arrived, with a side of chili sauce you could strip paint off boats with. There was also a small dish of thin yellow slices that smelled slightly lemony. Turned out it was pickled ginger that made the chili sauce taste like water by comparison. I had to eat an ice cream afterwards, and my tongue is still sore. I ate the stuff four hours ago.

Evil in food form in the middle above the plate

Then I took yet another walk to Low Yat, where I picked up some more electronics plus a killer action figure to soothe my inner not tech-geek.

Bob wasn't sure the makeover had gone all that well
As I walked out a guy passed me on a moped wearing a Darth Vader helmet. Literally. A shiny black Darth Vader helmet. He was too fast so I didn't have time to get the camera. Then the bizarreness continued as I walked past a sign advertising STD Calls. Is that the really bad version of a booty call? I tried to take a pic but the store manager came storming out, shouting at me, so I walked away. Last thing I needed was to be wrestled to the ground by someone advertising STDs...

And then I got to confuse three young Muslim men. Over the past few days quite a lot of Muslims have nodded at me or said hello. 'tis the beard. Now three twenty something men walked by, looked at me, and then one turned around and said "I'm sorry, you are Muslim?"

"No", I replied, to which he said "So sorry for bothering you." I smiled, said "No problem", and then "As-Salamu Alaykum". They all stared at me and then walked away. Win.

Shopping bugs me, for metaphorical reasons I'm sure, because in life as in shopping, you go in looking for one thing

I'm all shopped out. I didn't think that was possible, but I am. My head is all numb, my feet are throbbing, my shoulders hurt after lugging a backpack full of electronics and writing material around all day.

Seated now at the Hub Café, nestled within the insanity that is Plaza Low Yat, six floors of geek nirvana with dozens if not hundreds of places selling laptops, video games, printers, anything with a USB plug, servers, etc. And so many geeks. They're everywhere, young Asian men with that empty look in their eyes indicating that they won't be happy until they found that specific graphics card that haunts them in their dreams.

This is how heaven appears to geeks

There are 19 wireless access points at this particular spot, 18 of which are encrypted. Geeks, you say? The last one belongs to the café.

In the center of all this gadget madness is a big place that sells action figures and nothing but action figures. Surprising, eh? If I have any room left in my bags once they're packed I'm so going back there to shop.

My plan now is to spiral down to the bottom of Low Yat, hunting for a meaningsless gizmo for a friend, and then hitting the hotel room for some well deserved R & R. Tomorrow, I will go back to the Kinokuniya bookstore at Suria to pick up some Daredevil graphic novels, and then pick up pants for Mah Girl. Other than that I intend to do as little as possible. Sleep in. Finish my book. Maybe, just maybe ride the monorail to see what all the fuss is about.

On Friday, I leave KL for the flight back to Stockholm via Amsterdam. The flight doesn't take off until midnight, so I'll have another day to kill. No more shopping. Maybe some sightseeing. Maybe a movie. Basically enjoying the last day of vacation. Though that's technically not true. I still have three and a half days off from work when I get back, to set the jetlag straight and just kick back.

Photography is the recording of strangeness and beauty with beguiling precision

Go mopeds go!

Larry thought being out of focus was a pain in the ass

Average snack counter in Kuala Lumpur

No one was going to miss Daniel's cook colleague. Slice and dice

Blog owner photographed by Japanese geek.
Who looked at blog owner's camera with disdain

Optimus was outnumbered two to one

Dylan was pleased with how the Lego house took shape

Two quick things.

1. Skyscrapers rule
2. I sat down and spoke with some skateboarders today, after snapping some pictures of them. Turned out one of them was a huge fan of Refused, Millencolin and Breach. Good man. He wasn't on FaceBook though, so a pox on him.

Experience is the teacher of all things

Landed in New Zeeland two hours ago. Now sprawled on my brother's couch, winding down. Soon a shower and then male bonding over rugby and beer. Mmm...bonding...

Ten things I've learned/remembered over the past 36 hours.

1. People I know pop up in the weirdest places. This time it was Set Himself On Fire, so named after an incident involving a can of gas. He has been off my social radar for quite some time. Turned out we were on the same flight, so we reminisced a bit over food and duty free shopping before boarding.

2. 11 hours in the air was less uncomfortable than I thought, but felt longer than I had anticipated.

3. In flight entertainment is the best thing to happen to flights, ever. Six movies, or at least parts of six movies, were consumed over two flights. And episodes of House, Big Bang Theory and 30 Rock.

4. Wolverine really is a POS movie. Horrifying.

5. Kevin Costner can act. I tend to forget this in light of The Postman and Waterworld.

6. I am slowly moving towards being a video game nerd. The "upcoming games" feature in the Xbox magazine I bought for the flight has drool stains all over it.

7. The bed I slept in at the Kuala Lumpur Transit Hotel was the second hardest bed I have ever experienced, only eclipsed by the bed in Prague that felt like three slabs of concrete joined together cross-wise by metal rods that protruded a good inch from the bed.

8. H1N1 is a big deal in Malaysia. Seemed like every other person at the airport was wearing a face mask of some sort. No Outbreak suits visible, though I expect hordes of men dressed in them waiting in sterile rooms to bodytackles feverish travellers.

9. Shutter Island and Inception may well rekindle my faith in Leonardo de Caprio.

10. Jetlag is a gloriuos thing. Jetlag going east is even more glorious. I expect it to be even more glorious in a few hours.

Vestis facit virum

The last week or so we, as in Mah Girl and I, have been tearing through closets and cabinets and drawers, sorting clothes, inspecting clothes, trying out clothes and other activities involving clothes. The end result is a couple of big paper bags filled with stuff we'll give to charity, and that I did a thorough inventory of my clothes.

And my oh my do I have clothes. Here's a list of what's left:
- 60 plus tees. I lost count after 60. Mostly band tees, but quite a few geek tees as well. My favorite is this one for the Ludovico Technique.
- Seven shirts. Yes, I have seven shirts. Who knew? Most of them are short-sleeved though, so maybe they don't count.
- Nine hoodies. Again, mostly band stuff.
- Two zip hoodies. These are more like jackets, but not really. One Rocawear, one Eckö Unlimited. That's how hip hop I am.
- 19 pairs of pants. 19!! What the hell? I'm not buying another pair, ever. Except maybe those tobacco Carhartt cargo pants...
- Eight pairs of shorts. My favorite pair is in tatters. If I ever find them in a store again, I'm buying as many as they have.
- Two pairs of sweat pants, in various stages of disintegration.
- Track jacket. Looking for another one, but all those I've found have too much print or bling on them.
- Two jackets, one camo, one rain.
- Winter coat.
- Dr. Martens overcoat.
- Seven pairs of sneakers. You can never have too many sneakers.
- One pair of Dr. Martens low boots. I need another pair to act as dress shoes.
- Velour pajamas. Don't ask. I don't wear it, unless I'm going for a Love Boat look. Which never happens.

I don't really know how this happened. How I came to own so much clothes, because to me this is a lot. I have friends (work colleague Pink Shoes, among others) who own far more, but come on. This is me we're talking about. Mr wears a tee and cargo pants. Whatever. Cleaning out the closet was liberating. And I didn't find a single skeleton.

What's your favorite piece of clothing? Mine is the Dr. Martens overcoat. It's sort of military in style, and has been with me for fifteen years. Not only is it really comfortable, but it's also kind of unique, since it's from a test batch of coats they made and then never manufactured in numbers. I'm special!

Who watches the watchmen?

I watch the Watchmen. Countdown.

I like the pretty lights

On my way home after a nerd session at a friend's place. We have come to the realization that we're quite happy with being nerds. Though geek might be a better term. Whatever.

Part of tonight was spent watching UFO clips of dubious origin on YouTube. This brought back memories of that time we saw UFOs from our friend Lars' balcony. We saw these curving lights slowly moving at the horizon and couldn't really explain what they were. Lars put on the soundtrack to Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and we called SMHI, the Swedish weather service.

They couldn't explain it either, but asked us to call a guy at FOI who was quote interested in this sort of thing unquote. Now, I don't know about you, but I find the fact that a UFO nut works at FOI both appealing and disturbing. And highly amusing.

So we call him, explain what's going on, and he gets all excited. Tells us he needs to run outside to take pics, and will call us right back. Cue the X Files theme.

We didn't get any kind of explanation from the guy, because he was kind of confused and incoherent. But when he called back, he managed to convince us that it was a natural phenomenon. See how he moved from Mulder to Cigarette Smoking Man there, between one phone conversation and the next?

At one point in the conversation, the guy actually says "Is that Close Encounters I hear in the background?". Again, highly amusing.

Afterwards, we were all wondering when the men in black suits would show up to wipe our memories of the whole incident. Come to think about it, I haven't thought about that afternoon in a long time, so maybe they did...

I'm trying to feel more well adjusted than I really am, which is, I guess, the human condition.

The definition of "geek".

I'm at some friends' place in Borås. Why, you may ask. Not getting into that now. Not vital to the definition.

They pull out three different movies from a well-stocked DVD shelf (vital to the definition of another kind of geek: they have a better version of Jaws than I do. Must...upgrade...), and ask, "Which movie should we watch?".

We can't decide. One friend says, "Let's roll the dice to decide". Excellent, geek-friendly idea. Applause all around.

One problem. No dice.

Hence: online dice.

Ladies and gentlemen, "geek" is hereby defined *points to self*

Technology... the knack of so arranging the world that we don't have to experience it

It's time for yet another Like/Don't Like. Though it's Sunday. Deal with it.

beardonaut likes:
Wired Magazine. I've been aware of Wired for quite a while, though I had only read an issue here and there until last year, when I started buying it every month.

Like Empire, Wired seems written directly to me. I'm right in the middle of their demographic. I'm a geek, I like tech, and I like reading articles that aren't written like a scientific paper. Wired caters to all that, and does it with a twinkle in their eye.

I picked up the November issue the other day, and haven't gotten around to reading it, so:

The October issue contained, among other things:
- A short text on the merits and drawbacks on working from home instead of the office.
- How To on throwing a football.
- How To on bluffing a music geek (being a music geek, I can say it would have bluffed me)
- A short text on the Atlas Power Ascender, vital for those Mission Impossible situations where you need to scale a rope quickly.
- An article about recreating a Pleistocene eco-system by relocating bison and other animals to a preserve in Latvia.
- A list of 15 people the next President of the US should listen to, with opinions on climate change, space, global health, etc.

On the whole Wired is a wonderful treasure trove of ideas and things you don't even know exists. Go read it. Now.

beardonaut doesn't like:
Subscriptions that don't work. I started subscribing to Wired this summer. The deal was great compared to buying it off the shelf, even though it's an American magazine. However, it's not working. Of the five issues I was supposed to get, one has arrived on time, and two haven't arrived at all.

So I'm probably canceling my subscription, since I go by the magazine place anyway to see if another issue has come out and I haven't received it. I might as well buy it when I'm there.

Building better worlds

The highlight of today's Geekorama...I mean science fiction convention wasn't the members of the 501st Legion, and it wasn't the fact that I don't feel like such a geek when faced with people wearing Star Trek uniforms their mother has sown.

No, the highlight was my colleague Björn, who showed up to have his picture taken with Carl Weathers, in full Ivan Drago outfit, red satin robe and shorts with “Drago” on them and all. He even cut his already blond, square head of hair to match Drago's heli pad closer. He's mad, I tell you, mad! Though Weathers got a real laugh out of it. Pictures will be posted if I can score them from Björn.

Oh. And Lance Henriksen was there. I like Lance. To mark this occasion (and my geekiness), I wore my Weyland-Yutani tee. Had I thought about it, I would have brought a knife and asked him to repeat Bishop's trick from the mess hall onboard the Sulaco. Then again...maybe not.

Game over, man, game over

Today was one of those days where things move from good to bad to good again in the blink of an eye. Well, not really the blink of an eye, but a fairly short time.

It started off well enough, even though I shouldn't have been feeling that well, considering I was up too late last night and what with the stuff that's been going on lately. More on that later.

Then it all went sideways as a problem at work just grew out of proportion. It was all about a process gone horribly, horribly wrong, and about some people standing on the sideline not really noticing that it had gone wrong, and about some people on another sideline overreacting when it did. Through some well-aimed diplomacy (I have a piece of paper tacked to my cubicle wall that says “Diplomacy is the art of telling someone to 'Go to Hell' in such a way that they actually look forward to the trip”) and a lot of running around, I managed to at least partially defuse the situation, and above all sort of who had done what wrong when.

My workday continued to be less than spectacular, and I felt compelled to complain to Mah Girl. As always, she cuts straight to the point.

“Think about good food and good company later. It's going to be LEGEN...wait for it...DARY!”

Instant smile.

So I left work on time, and went downtown to meet the Almighty Steelwheels. The plan was to eat meat and speak nerd. I ate salmon, which wasn't quite right, but others ate meat. And we spoke nerd.

Quote of the night:
“Bill Paxton is the only one ever to have been killed by both an Alien and a Predator. I think about stuff like that all day...”

All is well with the world.

To a good approximation, all species are insects

I went to a museum on Saturday, with the Girl, my parental units, my soon-to-be-in-New-Zeeland brother and his girl. It was a pretty interesting place, though we failed to bring a proper camera.

In the gift shop, they had all kinds of nerd toys, and I couldn't resist.

Yes, it looks like a mechanical insect. Yes, I am a geek. Yes, I like clockwork mechanisms. Yes, that is my hand.

It (the toy, not the hand) skitters around on any flat surface if you wind it up. Pointless. But a lot of fun. And my geek score just went up. Yay!

Better to be a geek than an idiot

The laptop remains dead. Why? I brought it back to work, having proven that I don't deserve a hardware geek badge. Ze geeks looked at the harddrive, and exclaimed "This isn't European!".

Which meant ix-nay on the ires-way. The option presented to me was to buy an adapter. On eBay. From Korea. Mmm...no. I turned to the Other Geeks.

See, there's a difference. I always start with the geeks that work tech support. Those geeks talk to our customers on a daily basis, and have at least the semblance of social skills. In the bowels of our office there's a whole other breed of geek, that only speak in BASIC, and firmly believe that graphic user interfaces are for amateurs.

I used to work there, though I've never been able to reach those levels of geekiness. I've moved on to work at Marketing, which is a major faux pas if you're a geek. I've sort of been able to get away with it, and I still hear "you used to work at Networks so you should understand this" at meetings. Most of them believe it's only a matter of time before I show up for work wearing a suit and tie, with a clean-shaven chin. Oh the horror.

So I went down there, maneuvering between full-sized Stormtrooper cutouts, piles of discarded servers and pinball machines. But not really. The pinball machines are in the basement, the servers are stacked against the walls so you don't have to walk around them, and the Stormtrooper cutout is...well, that's actually there.

All your Deathstars are belong to me

They rolled their eyes when I said "Windows". They rolled them again as I said "service pack". They smiled smugly as I said "laptop crash". Then they said "mini OS on a USB stick".

That was Friday. Monday and Tuesday I'm off to customer service for meetings. So on Wednesday I should be rebooting my laptop from a USB stick, and saving the files I haven't backed up. Goodness.

Oh. And I've learnt that in Latvian "Internet" is "Internets". And "Vista" is "chicken". Suddenly a lot of things make more sense.

I would love to stand here and talk with you... but I'm not going to.

But really, I am.

We decided to fry up some shrimp and halloumi today, and build us some serious sandwiches. When we visited New Orleans in April, we bought a jar of Frank Davis Stricly N'Awlins Barbecued Shrimp Seasoning (try saying that five times in a row, really fast). We've only used it in minor quantities until now.

Tonight eighteen shrimp went in a bag, which I held while Mah Girl poured some seasoning over them. A great big gout of spices exploded into the bag. And out of the bag.

Let me put it this way. I doubt the New Orleans police department uses Mace or pepper spray to subdue criminals. Instead, they visit Frank Davis once a year, buy a truckload of his seasoning, and load up their spray cans. If someone ever tries to invade my home, I know what I'm arming myself with.

The laptop remains dead. Three geeks with oceans and oceans of PC know-how looked at it, hummed and hawed and concluded that the only thing I can do is reinstall Windows (the power of Christ compels you!).

It's not really this broken.

I have been a Good Boy and done backups regularly on an external harddrive, and them geeks supplied me with a bagfull of wires and gizmos so I can pull the drive and extract whichever files aren't backed up, since reinstalling Windows will wipe all of it. I tried today, but couldn't even figure out which wire goes into which part of the drive. And I'm supposed to be a technical boy (again with the microwave). For shame.

Tomorrow I bring all of it to work again, and hope that The Mighty Morphin' Power Geeks can help me, hands-on. Fingers crossed, y'all.

1f u c4n r34d th1s u r34lly n33d t0 g37 l41d

It should come as a surprise to no one that I am a geek... Hello? Anyone? Surprised? No? Damn.

I spent (misspent?) large parts of my youth with my nose in comic books, rolling oddly shaped dice to determine whether my elf would be able to bash in the skull of an orc/troll/dragon/duck/whatever, and playing with Star Wars miniatures. My mother, the Swedish/English teacher, must have been dismayed to have one son with no interest in serious literature (me) and one with no interest in literature whatsoever (my brother). In the end, I think we turned out alright. Ish.

Nowadays I read the occasional graphic novel (comic books with more pages) and roll oddly shaped dice to...eehm...determine whether my elf will be able to bash in the skull of an orc/troll/dragon/duck/whatever. But with more story. And more pages. As for the miniatures, I don't play with them anymore (only when alone on a Friday night, really really drunk), but I still buy them. Not specifically Star Wars, but there are toys all over the place at home. Stewie. Ralph Wiggum. Pinhead. The Sarge.

Frank Kozik's The Sarge

And I spend a lot of time around other geeks. Music geeks, gaming geeks, tech geeks... I've come to the realization that you can be a geek about just about anything.

Back in the day a geek was a computer wiz with glasses with thick rims and questionable hygiene. I can safely say that I fall into none of those categories. I might be more tech savvy than the average Joe, but don't expect me to fix your PC.

By spending time with geeks, I get exposed to a lot of interesting and downright weird phenomena, special interests, sub-cultures, etc.

SETI is one of those phenomena. I have been aware of SETI through various books, movies, TV shows, articles, etc, for quite some time, but I had no idea I could contribute. Readers, meet SETI at home (Wiki, official site). Now go do your part, to help us all find our benevolent friends in the sky (I choose to ignore Alien, War of the Worlds, Predator, Independence Day, Footfall, Martians, the Inhibitors, etc. Real aliens are cuddly-wuddly).

Batman AND a ninja-ish assassin. That's almost too much...

And to continue the geek theme. I walked past a comic book store on Sunday and was unable to resist. The title above and a Lobo trade paperback now sit on my shelves. Mmmm...geeky.

Even a really close shave won’t make me a Medium

Right-oh. This is inspired by both missTV (she has “Song of the Week” every Sunday) and ege (who has recurring themes at least twice a week).

Welcome to Like/Don’t like Saturdays.

beardonaut likes:

It goes without saying that I like beards. I like it on me, I like them on others, I take pictures of my beard with other beards. I am a beardonaut (for those of you that don’t get it, that’s –naut, like astro, but with a beard instead of space) suffering from beardomania.

So on Thursday I went to a barber for the first time ever. Not a hairdresser, mind you, but a barber. There’s not an abundance of them here. Extensive Googling yielded three. I settled on Barber & Books.

Now this is what a barbershop should look like.

The place is, quite literally, a paradise for beard nerds. As a friend commented: “Too bad I don’t have a beard anymore, cause it seems like you could go crazy with all sorts of shaving paraphernalia.” So true, and all that paraphernalia is available at Barber & Books.

I spent about 40 minutes having my beard trimmed. It went from “massive goatee with bushy sideburnsy things” to “full beard” under the barber’s skillful scissors, combs and whatnot. The result was beyond my expectations. I’m going back in a few weeks to get a proper shave, to clean up the lines of my beard.

A straight razor is just about the scariest thing I know (Lament Configuration puzzle boxes with moving parts being number one, of course), and I would never consider using one myself, but I really look forward to such a close shave. I’ve only had one before, and in comparison with what I’m getting this time, the first time has to be considered a quickie. I expect to leave fully satisfied and with a smile plastered all over my face.

So. I like Barber & Books.

beardonaut doesn’t like:

I had some time to kill before my appointment, so I took the time to look around for some clothes. I tend to buy a lot of my clothes at skate shops and such, since I really like skateboard shoes, baggy pants, hoodies etc (if I could choose I would always wear my baggy denim shorts, my Painfield hoodie, and one of maybe four pairs of skate shoes).

The problem is that most people that skate (I don’t – I have the balance of twelve different sized and shaped boxes stacked) are two feet tall and weigh about as much as a piece of paper. I walked into two different places and went “Ooh! Aah!” at maybe six different pieces of clothing, which is highly unusual since I’m very picky. All of them turned out to be available only in sizes Small or Medium.

Not really sure how to sum up what I don’t like about that in a short sentence. You get the point.

As me and my companions was setting out a snare

I spent a pleasant evening at a friend’s today. As always, topics discussed varied wildly, and there’s not really any fixed conversational path we walk down. I like that.

Today, the most fascinating topic, which wasn’t discussed at any length, was number stations. This is where we cue the X-Files theme song again. Sooooo cool. And quite geeky as well.

And oh yeah. I linked to Freud the other day. I was really aiming for this. Turns out Mah Girl knew exactly what I was looking for, even when I didn’t know myself. That’s often the case.

I shaved my head this weekend. I’ve sported a Mohawk in various configurations for a while now, but got fed up and took it all off. “You look weird”, Mah Girl said. I’m used to that verdict when I change my hair or beard. However, this time it went one step further. Behold:

Female colleague: “You look weird.”
Me: “I think I look nice.”
Female colleague: “What does Your Girl think?”
Me: “She thinks I look weird.”
Female colleague: “Look at it this way. Are you going to have sex with her or yourself?”

Now where did I put that Mohawk? I should be able to glue it back on, right?

A Clockbeard Orange

I find myself fascinated by the concept of clockwork mechanisms and automata. I’ve wanted to write a story featuring those for quite some time, but haven’t found the time or the inspiration for it.

To find that inspiration, I keep coming back to this. The first known mechanical computer, dated to about 150 B.C.

The Antikythera Mechanism in all it's rusted glory

The idea that the ancient Greeks (or whoever built it) possessed the know-how to construct a mechanical computer almost 2200 years ago is mind-boggling. The degree of mind-boggledness (new word) depends on who you ask, though…

I read Graham Hancock’s Fingerprints of the Gods about ten years ago, and found it to be a combination of interesting maths and facts, and absolute madness. is theory is that there was some kind of ur-civilization from which all the ancient civilizations (Egyptians, Mayans, Sumerians, etc) sprang. There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I need to reread it soon.