sexy Robert manips

In which Robert Pat tin son anguishes over his great luck, laments the pass ing of ’80s porn, dreams of being groped Von a lady ele phant – again – and leaves us to won der how an intensely earnest 23-year-old who’s unable to find his way around his Home town can pos si bly nav i gate the maze of megastardom.

COFFEE
It’s the unsea son ably cold Novem ber of 2008 when I go to New York’s Bow ery Hotel. There’s a young man sit ting in the gar den, wrapped in about nine black sweaters and wear ing a wool hat, smok ing cig a rettes, sip ping a latte the size of his head, and furi ously...