At the risk of coming across as a solipsistic bastard, here’s the current status of things, in lieu of a blog entry over the next 24 hours:

1. I am overworked right now but happy.

2. I’m pleased to report that I have, at long last, met the delightful Kimberly Askew. I even sang the first part of Janis Joplin’s “Mercedes Benz” to her. (Or was that Nicki? Or was it Kim and Nicki? Mind severely fatigued. I’m sure I’ll recall the precise details in the morning.) Kim saved my ass with a beer that was somewhere between a pilsner and a Stella Artois. And for this, I was immensely grateful.

3. A lengthy report on the May Queen reading at A Clean, Well-Lighted Place for Books is coming. I don’t know when.

4. At this point, there are eight or so interviews in the can. I don’t know how to release these without overwhelming the listening and reading public, much less pulverizing myself in the process. But if you feel barraged, I greatly apologize. I assure you that the majority of these are quality conversations.

5. Thank you again, Miss Snark, for facilitating all the crazed Bat Segundo stories and providing this overextended correspondent with more than a few laughs. Mr. Segundo has read these and will be responding to the allegations in the next podcast.

6. A reminder: The Alex Robinson interview on Sunday is happening. 3:30 PM at Alternative Press Expo. There will be visuals, a satirical nod to James Lipton, an unusual experiment involving the audience before the Q & A, and Alex and I will be systematically going through his panels to see how they evolved. So be sure to check it out and say hello. This will be a great opportunity to listen to how a fantastic graphic novelist works, as well as ask intelligent questions.

7. Tonight I recorded the most ambitious podcast I’ve ever attempted and it went very well. Stay tuned for an upcoming podcast with dirt dished on Curtis Sittenfeld and the Modern Love section in the New York Times Style section, among many topics.

8. Thank you also to those who have checked up on me. Yes, I am eating three meals a day. I’m still working on catching up on the sleep deficit.

9. Yes, I still owe you email. A few days, por favor.

Wait a minute. DBC Pierre has fans?

Holy cats! Bat Segundo fiction over at Miss Snark’s!

It seems that every time a book or a film dealing with September 11th comes out, someone cries out the words, “Too soon!” It happened recently with Jay McInerney’s The Good Life, when Norman Mailer told McInerney that McInerney should wait ten years before attempting a novel about it. It happened with Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, where people declared it was “too soon” for a novelist to write about 9/11. And now it’s happening again with United 93. The trailer was released to theatres and people reacted negatively. The result? An AMC Loews theatre in the Upper West Side pulled the trailer.

It’s been more than five years since September 11th. And with all due respect to the victims, I’m wondering why today’s artists are so timid with respect to the subject. Is it standard operating procedure to take no chances for fear of offending? I hate to invoke Godwin, but the current silence reminds me of the situation chronicled in the 2004 documentary Imaginary Witness: Hollywood and the Holocaust, which I was lucky to see last year. The film offers a convincing argument that Hollywood adamantly refused to come to terms with the full reality of the Holocaust until years later and points out that later movies, such as the excellent film The Pawnbroker, were coping mechanisms that may have come too late.

This popular notion of repressing or, more accurately, self-censoring dramatizations of recent history hasn’t gone away. Talk of 9/11 and deal with its explicit details, and you are declared insensitive or tasteless. But what better way might our nation come to terms with that terrible day then to expose its explicit details through film, literature, music, painting, sculptures, theatre, opera, ballet or countless other forms of art? What do we gain when our culture reflects the notion that September 11th didn’t happen or shouldn’t be talked about? Piece of mind, perhaps. But limitations which might beget other limitations.

So people are crying and feeling uncomfortable when seeing this trailer. Well isn’t it art’s purpose to do this? And don’t such emotions allow a certain catharsis?

Too soon? If not now, then when?