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From the foreword (“[T]he only truth is sexual truth”) to the opening sentence (“I needed to have sex again”) to just about any passage (“Sex had always been the unstated master of our lives”), Gary Hardwick’s SexLife never strays far from its gimmick: Sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex. Hardwick’s dystopia is New York City, 2268a bawdy new world where everyone talks in ’90s computer jargon and suffers from a chronic disease that requires them to fornicate five times a day or die an unpleasant death. The disease strips intercourse of all pleasure; ironically, the same could be said of the author’s prose. Hardwicka film director whose credits include Deliver Us From Eva and who writes under the name A.A. Cliffordalso seems to suffer from chronic, joyless repetition. Get a load of Hardwick’s wicked hard imagination at 2 p.m. (see City List for other dates) at Sisterspace and Books, 1515 U St. NW. Free. (202) 332-3433. (Felix Gillette)