What the title says. It kind of makes one want to contemplate the window ledge. And not for the interesting patterns of bird shit…. I’m feeling a little cramped and short of coffee, so I am heading out to find some presumably decent java and a place to read for a bit before I head into the day of long meetings that’s brought my sorry ass to Toronto. I urge you do two things — check out the new fiction by Heather Birrell in The Magazine and continue creating limericks out of famous poems. Listen, I know you have work to do, but it’s summer and everyone else is having fun while you’re dying in your cubicle farm/ writer’s garret of vitamin D deficiency. You owe it to Tyler Durden to bring the entire organization down from within by goofing off today, at least for the 10 minutes it would take you to entertain the rest of us cubicle/garret rats. Post them anonymously, if you’re worried about being caught/laughed at/sullied by the limerick form. But have fun. Ciao, my shadowy minions. I’m riding off into the smog-set.