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An excerpt from my most up-to-date newsletter: “The Hand Print”:
That scene would star Jenna and a very well-acknowledged male porn star named T. T. Boy, a limited, pugnacious performer with a lantern jaw and a permanent scowl who reminded me of a significantly less-shiny Patrick Bateman. (“Within the business enterprise, he is recognized as an untiring performer,” T. T. Boy’s Wikipedia web site touts. “In a 2015 job interview, he mentioned that over the study course of his occupation, he has slept with over 10,000 females.”) I understood who T. T. Boy was prior to I arrived for the reason that I had study about him in the internet pages of The New Yorker. In 1995, Susan Faludi had written about the suicide of a male porn star named Cal Jammer, and in the course of her exploration in the San Fernando Valley, her path had crossed with that of T. T. Boy’s. In her story, she’d quoted a former male porn star who’d observed of T. T. Boy: “Basically, the male is a lifetime-assist technique for a penis.” I located this assessment to be about proper. He was scaled-down than me, brooding, coiled as if on the lookout for an justification to do some thing to another person—it did not definitely make a difference what or who, whether or not it was combating or fucking. Perhaps it was all the exact to him.
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