No news or reviews to post today as I shed all vestiges of my normal life and pack for two weeks in Cannes. I know, your heart bleeds for me. Christ almighty, at least I'll be away from Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama -- that alone is worth it. Look for a full festival preview by tomorrow morning.

Rain is in the forecast, which is pretty strange for the Riviera this time of year, and thanks to the vanishing George W. Bush dollar, the festival will be a whole new ballgame for me personally. The last couple of years, my wife and kids have come over (at our own expense) and rented a cheap apartment in Antibes, a charming little fishing town where Picasso once lived that's about seven miles around the bay from Cannes. Sure, I was at the festival from early morning to midnight and hardly got to see them. But they got plenty of beach time and I had a quiet place to retreat from the festival, wrestle with children and write at night instead of going to stupid parties and drinking too much.

But the beachfront grilled sandwiches we often subsisted on -- I especially recommend the "anchois," with mozzarella, tomato, local anchovies and a drizzle of basil-infused olive oil -- have gone from $4.50 to $7.25 in three years (while remaining the same price in Euros). Transmute that dollar deflation into the price of rent and groceries, and you'll understand why I'm flying solo this year, and staying in some nice English fellow's apartment that's about the size of the walk-in closet I had when I was eight years old. Yes, gentle reader, I am alone and adrift in Cannes, surrounded by Prada and Gucci-clad predators with sunglasses atop their heads. Only you can save me from becoming just another debauched reporter wandering the Croisette at 4 a.m., telling strangers and seagulls that I definitely have an invitation to Benicio's villa but have somehow lost the address and do they know where it is, please?

Sure, it's going to be fun, in its own special and twisted Cannes fashion. But send a little prayer up for me now and again, will you? More soon.