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An excerpt from my most recent newsletter: “The Hand Print”:
That scene would star Jenna and a well-recognized male porn star named T. T. Boy, a limited, pugnacious performer with a lantern jaw and a long term scowl who reminded me of a fewer-dazzling Patrick Bateman. (“Within the organization, he is recognized as an untiring performer,” T. T. Boy’s Wikipedia web page touts. “In a 2015 job interview, he said that in excess of the program of his career, he has slept with over 10,000 women.”) I realized who T. T. Boy was just before I arrived mainly because I experienced study about him in the internet pages of The New Yorker. In 1995, Susan Faludi had published about the suicide of a male porn star named Cal Jammer, and during her research in the San Fernando Valley, her route had crossed with that of T. T. Boy’s. In her story, she’d quoted a previous male porn star who’d observed of T. T. Boy: “Basically, the man is a lifetime-assistance program for a penis.” I identified this evaluation to be about correct. He was lesser than me, brooding, coiled as if looking for an excuse to do anything to a person—it did not really issue what or who, no matter whether it was battling or fucking. Perhaps it was all the exact same to him.
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