He sees a beautiful blonde working in the storefront office of a presidential candidate. He tries to break the cycle - or maybe he just sets himself up to fail again. His sexual frustration is channeled into a hatred for the creeps he obsessively observes. Travis isn't into that, he hates it, but Times Square feeds his anger. It's here that an ugly kind of sex comes closest to the surface - the sex of buying, selling, and using people. ![]() Travis could in theory look for fares anywhere in the city, but he's constantly drawn back to 42nd Street, to Times Square and the whores, street freaks, and porno houses. ![]() And then, even more cruelly, the city seems filled with men who can have these women - men ranging from cloddish political hacks to street-corner pimps who, nevertheless, have in common the mysterious ability to approach a woman without getting everything wrong.
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