Mamie Stevenson writes about stuff that her mother would not want to read. She makes her living by copyediting tasteless novels from the comforts of her colorful, well-lit studio in Portland, Oregon.
Articles by Mamie Stevenson:
a fraught time for the phallus - « Void. » - a curriculum of empathy - an untouchable and fragile glass box - the hands of Dr. Larry Nassar - limp, blue, and lifeless - a smaller voice
in my dorm room during Orientation Week while being dry-humped by the only blond guy to have ever said I love you to me - who highlights an epic poem? - people who smoked cigarettes, people who had sex, people who knew that Park Slope wasn’t a mountain - I was told regularly that I was a leftist - a liberal institution that devalued women’s voices - a humanities lecture, a sunny day in Portland, a parade twice a year
back, servile - esthetician, a sweet blonde - my embarrassment - like a butterfly - hot wax
an oath of chastity! - abstinence in the air - TO SAVE YOURSELF - as a doppelganger - we settled on having sex - pop out a few suckers - a constant source of sperm - lifted my heavy baggage - permeate our plans
skiing was for girls named Heather or Casey - boys who did not witness me peeing my pants - feeling starved and martyred - my outstanding participation in Bible study - breaking a French press and scraping my ass bloody - a centerfold advertisement for a Chevy Suburban - every person's alcoholic preference is accounted for - just a bunch of white people putting their things in other people's houses
nothing sounds like more of a lady-boner killer to me than being a lesbian during the Reagan Administration - I opened a fresh pack of razors and went to town - I managed to have sex with people who either didn’t notice (intoxication helped) or didn’t care - I thought this was a perk to being gay - take a good, hard look in the mirror… while bent over