Bunce films them. So Joey who came out of one porn film would go into another. It could fuck up the whole space-time continuum. They could prosecute us.”“For?”“Meta-fiction in the first degree?

Joey broke the silence. “MS?” he asked.“Microsoft,” said Calvin. “Or multiple sclerosis. Computer programs everyone has to use, or a debilitating disease. That’s life, in a nutshell.

I mean, there’s no sun and no hot guys. What is this awful place, Calvin?”“It’s my apartment.

Human relations had become a cock-block.

It was all very utopian, but it gave one nothing to get, to win, to hold onto. There were no distances, so there was also no closeness.

So basically,” Calvin said, “this is My Fair Lady in a walk-up on West Twenty-Second Street with no music and no Julie Andrews.

Fuck you, diet,” said Stuart. “The diet schmeer is the end of civilisation as we know it.

There are certain things every gay man has to know.

This, Calvin realised, as Joey grinned and told him sweetly to “Suck that dick” was what it was like to be God: utter confidence, utter trust, utter ease with yourself, no move you could not make, no tank top you could not wear, no guy who would not worship you, not ever. This was the end state. Bliss.

What was it with gay men and art photos of nude male torsos?