Where do dead links go?
Crazy things come up when you're delirious with the flu.
When you have those weird dreams, don't they make as much sense as SPAM? And speaking of SPAM, there's a strange, surrealist beauty to their nonsene, no?
Below is an example:
...There will never be the girl made that will not scorn you. never more shout the call of battle or wash their feet in the streams the sun had gone down, a little wisp of a new moon was following it I cannae tell, said I. I think not. If I was only sure.
all this shame loundered on my head? How could you dare it, David among soldier-men to their big dinners; and still I had the same here, and your father having word from it, and yon officer that stayed the same kind of high good nature. Indeed, he had an outside air of
sick of her and you. What kind of a damned trade is this to be a The biggest kind, Alan, said I, and I think Ill take it to my grave and set the mill to the turning. There was something of spring in the hours were gone he had raised a small loan of me; before thirty, he had
She shook her head at me with that same smile I could have struck her for me to breathe deep; it seemed there was not air enough about Leyden of the valley. But if you had only some of this language, you would The door was opened so quickly, even before I had the word out, that I
to be a little distant - My little friend, now you are mine wrong side this day. Not that I mean he was afraid, of course, I his wants: he made her drink first out of his glass, he surrounded her
David Lynch could have written that.