"it was me at the foot, and the czar at the head"

I have decided that it is not necessary to learn Russian, as speaking Russian makes my mouth incredibly dry. I think that referring to it as "mother Russia," repeatedly listening to the national anthem, and memorizing the names of all the Russian czars should be sufficient to pay my respect. "Pay my respect?" I make it sound as if Russia has died... eh. All this Russia-ness lately has reminded me of that song I used to play on the piano, way back when. It said something about sleeping in the czar's bed, sleeping in the czar's wife's bed, eating food with names that make my mouth dry, and Rasputin. Rasputina. Gingerbread Coffin. Run, run, as fast as you can. Enough of this crazy talk...

Since my last post does not seem to exist as it should, I shall duplicate it here:
Is Marian a terrible name for a monkey?

And, the other brief, meaningless post which didn't show up:
Curses on angelfire! I need a new layout anyways.

Now, what was it that inspired me to write at the moment? Damn, I shouldn't even have tried writing in this blog... I should have channeled the inspiration into my piece for creative writing, "Daydream Told by Another." Along the lines of "Is Marian a good name for a monkey?" (in particular, an accordion-playing monkey with a little red suit and gold buttons) is the other problem of naming: finding a set of three names which translate well from Italian, to French, to English while still conveying the right sort of feeling.

Peter, Robert, Richard, William
Pietro, Roberto, Riccardo, Guglielmo
Pierre, Robert, Richard, Guillaume