The issue has to be: what lies beyond the current relationship our society has with it, and how does one get there? Can pornography be singular – can it escape cliché and script? One of the terrible things about pornography is that it’s so anonymous. It’s my cousin watching three hours of white noise – as he calls it – of people being tortured. What is that? But take it seriously, he literally doesn’t remember shit: pornography becomes not so much an experience of life as an a-experience, a chasm, a place in which life stops happening… I’m used to telling stories and they’re about human beings who have experiences, and they change, and the same is true of you and what you write. Yet so much of porn for me feels like it’s about – it’s not necessarily what it needs to focus on – nullity and boredom and forgetfulness and tiredness. How do you tell a story about that? How does one get at that? It’s not even the worst part of human beings. It is evil, but it’s not the evil of death or murder or something Dostoyevsky would write about. It’s the forgetfulness of someone who can’t even get a hard-on masturbating. How do you write about their boredom looking at the scene they used to masturbate to three weeks ago, their compulsive desire for new content, and their nagging realization that they have to go to the office tomorrow? That’s a strange scene to write.