Backgammon can risk your life!

Moscow man killed after betting life on game of backgammonRIA Novosti, November 19, 2008, Deetriot Free Press

MOSCOW — A 35-year-old Muscovite has admitted to murdering a visitor to his flat who agreed to stake his life on a game of backgammon, Russian news media have reported.

Sergei Smirnitsky was arrested in south Moscow on murder charges after reportedly knocking on his neighbor’s door to ask him to help drag a corpse from his eighth-floor flat to the street. The shocked neighbor called police instead.

The story began when Smirnitsky and his victim-to-be, 23-year-old Vasily Lobozov, agreed to share a taxi. During the ride, Smirnitsky invited his new acquaintance to come to his flat, and Lobozov agreed. Upon their arrival, Lobozov noticed and remarked upon a backgammon set sitting on the shelf.

“I made that in the labor camp,” said Smirnitsky, who had earlier served time for robbery. “It took me years.”

“Shall we play a game?” his guest replied.

Smirnitsky, who was reportedly in a dark mood following the recent death of his brother, then informed his guest that, “With that backgammon set you can only play for dough.”

When Lobozov replied that he had no money, his host answered: “Then stake your life.”

Lobozov, who presumably didn’t take the proposal seriously, agreed, and the two men sat down to play. Fifteen minutes later, after Smirnitsky had beaten his young opponent, he went into the kitchen, chose a knife, and plunged it five times into Lobozov’s neck.

“We agreed that he who lost would die,” Smirnitsky told an investigator in a recorded interview posted on the Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper’s Website, adding: “He lost.”

Serenade

Softly, pleading flows my singing
through the night to you.
Down to that still copse entreating
Love, I’ll wait for you.

Whispering, slender treetops rustling
in the moonlit glade,
of a traitor’s hostile listening.
Don’t, my love, be afraid.

Nightingales, you hear them singing?
Ah, they beg of thee,
with their notes and sweet complaining,
now they plead for me.

Well they know the heart’s desire
Well know lover’s pains.
Touching with their silver lyre
all heart’s finest strains.

Let also your heart be moved,
Love, oh hear me now!
Trembling, do I wait beloved,
come, your kiss bestow.



A beautiful translation of Ludwig Rellstab's poem (by my clever friend Ariel).
The original poem, in German, was set to music by Schubert for a 'Standchen.' Of all the translations I've read of this poem, Ariel's is the most beautiful.

21 Things I Want in a Lover

Do you derive joy when someone else succeeds? Do you not play dirty when engaged in competition? Do you have a big intellectual capacity but know That it alone does not equate wisdom? Do you see everything as an illusion? But enjoy it even though you are not of it? Are you both masculine and feminine? politically aware? And don't believe in capital punishment?

These are 21 things that I want in a lover
Not necessarily needs, but qualities that I prefer

Do you derive joy from diving in and seeing that Loving someone can actually feel like freedom? are you funny, a la self-deprecating? like adventure? and have many formed opinions

These are 21 things that I want in a lover
Not necessarily needs, but qualities that I prefer

I figure I can describe it since I have a choice in the matter

These are 21 things I choose to choose in a lover

I'm in no hurry I could wait forever
I'm in no rush because I like being solo

There are no worries and certainly no pressure
in the meantime I'll live like there's no tomorrow

Are you uninhibited in bed? more than three times a week? Up for being experimental? Are you athletic? Are you thriving in a job that helps your brothers? Are you not addicted

...curious and communicative...

Indian Proverb

"'Everyone is a house with four rooms - a physical, a mental, an emotional, and a spiritual. Most of us tend to live in one room most of the time; but unless we go into every room every day even if only to keep it aired, we are not a complete person."

The Final Disappearance of Wit

It's been about four months since Wit disappeared one summer's evening in July. One day she was sleeping on my bed with Nighty, the next some French visitors disturbed her slinked and she went outside, never to be seen again. Should I blame the French? It's tempting... ;-)

Poor old Wit. I imagine she impaled herself, or was shot, or got run over, or was eaten by a fox. We liked her, and Nighty misses her. Sometimes. When she's really, really bored.

We're moving house in two weeks and she won't be coming because she doesn't exist.

Poor old Wit. Never lived to see two years.

We lead a witless existence.

Buttercup Boy

You come into my dreams as if nothing's different! Who asked you? Each night we talk and move, or dance and squabble. You don't want to leave me alone and mostly I don't mind as I don't want to leave you alone either. Where did you go, by the way? Do you still lie in that yellow and green summer field?

Psychiatrist Needed

...becuase I saw a screaming skull in the pattern made by the shampoo as it slid down the inside of the shower.

Something's very wrong. :-0