I wouldn’t describe last night’s JFK-to-Paris flight as miserable. The guy in front of me didn’t lean his seat back too far (much obliged!) so mostly sleepless but tolerable is a fair way to describe it. I’m presently holding down a corner table at La Sancerre on rue d’Abesses — a free wifi oasis. Paris is not warm, fall-ish but mild. Scarf weather. I can’t move into the crib until 2 pm, or two and 1/2 hours hence. I’ll be fine once I get a little shut-eye. I recently watched a British Bluray of Robert Siodmak’s The Killers (on top of having seen it seven or eight times previously in other formats) so I’m not sure about catching it this afternoon at the Filmotheque this afternoon, as a Twitter guy (i.e., Ben Croll) has suggested, but there’s something delicious about that notion all the same. Best movie-phile city in the world. I set foot here and my mood shifts or more accurately levitates. I’m home. Well, kind of.