James Deen is the best. We couldn’t be more excited for the male version of Sasha Grey to become a mainstream sensation, especially if he keeps up the hardcore porn and amazing blog entries.
But we’re a little worried that Mr. Deen has been spending time with the wrong influences ever since Bret Easton Ellis announced the cast of The Canyons…
Bret Easton Ellis and Paul Schrader’s super white-hot project (via Kickstarter) The Canyons has already hit its first casting snag. Despite announcing Lindsay Lohan and approachable porn star James Deen as the movie’s stars earlier this week, the car-crashing actress apparently hasn’t signed her contract yet.
Which may be an issue, since someone on her team has been coaching the Herbie: Fully Loaded star how to read scripts.
Bret Easton Ellis
Ever since Bret Easton Ellis decamped to Los Angeles, New York City’s lone prominent literary brat-packer, Jay McInerney, has ruled with an iron fist from atop his Hearst-cohabited Village penthouse over…young Bard graduates who aspire to be Dan Humphrey. But the author, Best New American Film Critic, and budding entertainment revolutionary still has a well-preserved plot of East Village apartment space, filled with the rarefied air that only the man who yielded American Psycho could have occupied. And now, you—yes, you—can live in it, if you so choose.
Bret Easton Ellis’ Twitter feed is like his books: they might be gimmicky, and bizarre, and sometimes in bad taste…but they are never uninteresting.
Last time we checked in, the author of American Psycho was talking about a coked-up threesome he almost had with Rielle Hunter and someone else in the 80s. (It might have been Molly Ringwald or Jay McInerney!)
But on Monday night, Mr. Ellis went in a totally different direction, pushing his Kickstarter-backed film The Canyons with some scintillating casting.
“Bret is such a liar!” Jay McInerney said fondly of his old friend. It was Wednesday night, and we were chatting across the table during a dinner the author had co-hosted with Janna Bullock. Mr. McInerney was referring to our query about the infamous tweet of his friend Bret Easton Ellis, who had implied they the two literary brat packers had once ‘almost’ had a threesome with John Edwards’ mistress, Rielle Hunter.
Yesterday, Mr. American Psycho Bret Easton Ellis used his highly entertaining Twitter account to comment on culturally relevant events by boasting about what we’re sure was a really fun and not totally disgusting party at the time.
“It’s kind of like being in a David Lynch movie,” Jeff Ragsdale told The Observer over the phone. “Half of the calls I get are blocked, so I never know who I’m going to get on the other end.” Six months ago, Mr. Ragsdale started hanging up fliers around New York City, inviting people to call him. 65,000 people did so (including text messages).
Two days ago, The New York Post noticed and did a short profile on Mr. Ragsdale experiment. Since then, Mr. Ragsdale, who said he’s been battling loneliness and depression all his life and started the fliers after a painful breakup, has received another 3,000 calls/texts. (Don’t worry, he’s on a limitless phone plan.) That’s even more than when his note went viral on the front page of Reddit.
Oh, and he has a book coming out today.
The first time I met James Deen was in a co-ed bathroom. I couldn’t tell you where. He was in the middle of a foursome, having sex with a sweat-soaked blonde propped up against a porcelain sink who looked like she’d just swallowed all the MDMA in L.A. A friend told me one way to spot fake college porn is by the extras the producers hire to stand around and pretend to be students. Sure enough, a group of guys who might have trouble spelling the word “campus” were watching, slack-jawed, from the doorway. I was watching too, except from my MacBook in Brooklyn.
Congratulations to Salman Rushdie, who finally gained his official Twitter handle after shaming another person off of it. Mr. Rushdie joined Twitter this week but had to take the handle @SalmanRushdie1 because some goofball had already been tweeting out from @SalmanRushdie. As of yesterday, it was still being reported that Mr. Rushdie was verified at @SalmanRushdie1, but had sent a message to the faux-tweeter: “Who are you? why are you pretending to be me? Release this username. You are a phoney. All followers please note.”
What happened to all the places frequented by Patrick Bateman 20 years ago in Bret Easton Ellis’s American Psycho? Well, for starters, the nightclub Tunnel is now a “design collective” called ENK-NYC; the restaurant Arcadia is now called Amaranth and Espace is Steak Frites. The Harvard Club is still the Harvard Club.
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