Lord Henry OK'd it, once again.

Perhaps DIKT:APRIL was doomed to fail from the very start. Instead of sitting alone typing nonsensical words in sheer desperation, we decided to come together last week and create life poetry in the form of sunshine, people's beer and boffer sword production. This collective dream state went on for some days and in the meantime, DIKT:APRIL vanished like volcanic ash in the wind. And we would all rejoice, put on our most picturesque outfits and start thinking about future beautiful failed projects to come.

The only artists I have ever known, who are personally delightful, are bad artists. Good artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are. A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.

Lord Henry, in “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde

Vattensta Venatical Veek

It has begun. Yes. There’s a light, over at the Frankenstein place, and it’s my light, and it’s my place, and it’s lighted for you and you and you and you.

Do not be too excited. I have it all planned, German-style. It's called discipline, and it's an illusion. Anyway. We commence with a classic bear-hunt. I know you all expect a hunt, and we’ve already done a wild boar one. This year, we go for bear. For success, bring your own raisins OR ginger-bread house. As to clothing, I strongly suggest dark, water-resistant coats and rubber boots. Wearing yellow southwester or leather cowboy hat is optional but recommended. These clothes will not only provide comfort during hunting hours, but will also prove useful during our other outdoor activities. Yes, there will be plenty of those. Not even WATER, falling from the SKY, can stop us.

Over to la nourriture. If we for some reason should fail to bring down a bear, you shall not lack fodder. I hereby guarantee that you will be fed during your stay at VVV. However, I heard someone whisper something about wine. You are very welcome to bring wine. Or any mind-numbing brews or stews. I am quite liberal. Also, quite naïve.

Anyway, now you know about the clothes and the food and my general unwariness. It’s all it takes really. Bring a smile, and bathing equipment, in case of sunshine. Bring your laptops, if you want to stay updated. Or become it, whatever.

This is the Mousse, reporting from VVV, awaiting company, considering leprosy. And a dog.

We laughed when, really, we cried.

The Oddballs have been out island-adventuring. It was on a Swedish island. The biggest there is, as a matter of fact. Facts are usually of little importance to us Odds, but as I have little to recite, facts are helpful as filling in my blog cake. This is a blog cake. Don't get me wrong, numerous events took place during our stay away, lots of filling, but the words won't come to me. So I'm just going to keep on stating facts.

Who were we and what did we accomplish?

There was Lolita, whose greatest achievement was to arrange free and qualitative housing, various useful itineraries and guide-like anecdotes. Sometimes genuinely interesting, sometimes questionable.

Also, she made a very tasty sausage casserole and drank approximately eight litres of tea. Other things she entertained herself with was go shopping with the very impressionable Ape and exceed our food allowances by bringing home large amounts of chocolate, chips and celebrity gossip magazines.

tiny, or - the one whose name we tend to forget - was also there. We think she enjoyed herself. She wore a dress some days.

Ape spent her days trying to clean herself. I could post a picture of her sitting in an under-sized wooden water barrel in the garden, but it would in no way help us understand her behaviour. Apart from the cleaning, she was very energized, optimistic and playful. She terrorized the Nameless girl with different water-ejaculating weapons. But NG proved a vengeful soul and soon they were both wet. Mousse too, whose interference no one could explain.

The Ape later became ill and somewhat reclusive.

Me, Mousse, played a very important role. First I was sick and whiny. Then I got better, but kept whining. Moreover, I took it as my duty to provide the group with pills. Pain, diarrhea, pregnancy or boredom. I could cure all sicknesses with my personal supply. My lapdog Ape served as guinea pig and got weird.

Then one day we met my Oracle. It was interesting. She happened to be a heavily built woman on a farm somewhere out in nowhere with her very own overpriced flea market. We spoke of my pathetic love life and she told me not to sit and wait for the handsome knight on a white horse to come sweep me away, like she had done, and end up alone. My man might not look the best or even know how to ride a horse, but he will be the right one. I thanked her for the wise words, complimented her very large collection of 70's plastic utensils and bought Nana by Émile Zola for 5 SEK. She said it was lustful. The book.


Things we did together as a group was eating, eating, eating and reading celebrity gossip magazines. I like Lindsay Lohan the most. My friends are not so selective. They appreciate colorful pictures. We were happy together, crowded around a magazine, and that is all that matters.

These are my facts.