ONE LAST THING,
before I go to France:
Just a moment ago I was walking to my house holding these new shoes in my hand,
when I looked down at my front step and saw this: 
What does it mean? We don’t get to know. Even if it means nothing, we don’t get to know for sure that it means nothing. We just have to go forward in time.
Ok. I’m just going to say it. Tomorrow, as soon as I get to Paris, I am put on a helicopter that will take me to Deauville. Helicopters are sometimes called grasshoppers (I just checked on google to be sure, they are.) Large dead grasshopper on my porch, grasshopper shoes that fit me exactly. I don’t want to die. It would be just too maudlin and coincidental to foretell my own death in a blog. In any case, I figure I’m safer if just I announce it, upping the coincidenciality. Oh lord, I just realized that the title of the blog is ONE LAST THING. As if it were my last blog ever. But under that it clearly says: "before I go to France." Oh, I know it is all so funny and quirky, but what if I really am afraid? What if I go through life with this fairly high level of anxiety all the time? Wouldn’t that be a laugh riot. All right my dears, I’ll save it for the next the movie. Wrong format for this kind of self-analysis, it just looks tacky. All for now.
