Haven't been here for a while, largely because there has been some Classified Shit going on that I just can't write about, and when I can't write about what's on my mind, I don't write at all.

But we're getting down to the wire, here.

The Great Friggin' Gonzo Revenge of the Sith Tour gets under way a week from tomorrow, and here's the latest:

1) I still don't have an official itinerary. I know what cities I'm going to because I downloaded the schedule from The Force.Net (and I got a supplementary list from Colleen when we talked on Tuesday). But I don't have flight or hotel info. At all. Colleen? You listening?

(Though to be fair, I'm teasing her a little. She only promised me the itinerary by the end of this week, which in Publisher Time means before the close of business next Thursday.)

2) Though the book seems to be all over the goddamn Internet by now, nobody's sent an advance copy to ME . . . which means I get to go through security checks with a one-way ticket. Loads of fun. "No, REALLY, I'm on a BOOK tour . . . well, I don't have the book WITH me . . ."

3) I am damned close to broke. It's been a (to paraphrase George Harrison) long cold lonely fucking winter. [EDITED BY THE BORG. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.]

4) My meds are only half working. I'm mobile and functioning and will remain so, but can I just say . . . ow . . . ?

5) The AOL/Moviefone tour blog thing is still supposed to be happening, except they haven't gotten the software to me yet, and we're kinda running out of time.

6) I continue to maintain, despite how the above may read, my Jedi calm. This shit is entirely out of my hands; I leave success and failure entirely to the whims of the gods, the Force and the Random House publicity department, in that order. I will be squeezing every drop of enjoyment from my 15 minutes . . . er, 30 days . . . of nascent celebrity, and I continue to believe that somehow everything will work out just fine.

Because somehow it usually does.

It's not unlike working a blisteringly busy shift at a high-end restaurant -- which, as many of you know, I have done many, many times in my long career. When you're in the middle of it and things look like they're about to start going wrong, it seems like the fucking Apocalypse. But at the end of the shift, you count your money and go home. Meanwhile, nobody died.

Which is the main reason I became a bartender instead of a cop, a doctor, a fireman or a soldier.

And so far, nothing has ACTUALLY gone wrong. It's just the damned full-body migraine that makes it feel like it's going to, and I'll get over that by the time I'm on the flight to Raleigh.

Tally Ho!