People look for themselves in books and movies. They count on those touchstones, not so much for gospel as affirmation that others have walked the same path. But for strippers there is no Giovanni’s Room, no Easy Rider, no Basketball Diaries, no Well of Loneliness. Perhaps if there were an intellectual tradition, a floozerati that inspired a body of work to consult and a philosophy to impart, I’d feel less marooned.