Neotenica by Joon Oluchi Lee

Author:Joon Oluchi Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nightboat Books
Published: 2020-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

LES CAUSEUSES

About a week before Lisa Marie contemplated suicide, she met Young Ae at the laundromat; it all began as a wet t-shirt contest and turned into a tropical mudslide. Lisa Marie had the kind of face that looked soft and fat when she was being sweet, and when she was mean, became all skull: why, even the Kewpie doll-dimple in her chin disappeared. She was an actress, and male directors liked her because while she had the face and body of a teenager just beginning to shed baby fat, she moved with the slow, elegant slovenliness of a cow. Straight or gay, male directors liked to linger over her in slow motion, whether in the editing room or their brains, to refashion Lisa Marie’s actual morphological function as a time-lapse video of a child becoming a woman. Such glittery perversity was not wholly lost on female directors either but a lot of them just found her kind of sloppy or sullen—which they didn’t mind because it was refreshing to encounter an actress who radiated indifference in the shape of pure laziness rather than haute boredom. So while Lisa Marie’s slowness endeared her to most technicians and crafters of film, it was also the reason she didn’t do well with casting directors or producers. Reliant on headshots, they flipped right past her, for still photography made her face break down into a puddle of something sticky and not very sweet. It’s also why for the past ten years she had been playing a stream of sullen teenaged daughters of rotating generations of 40-year old beauties rotating into a career of playing mothers and lawyers.

When her eyes first set upon Young Ae, Lisa Marie was sitting on an out-of-order washing machine labeled K, her laundry divided up evenly and turning in machines J and L. The walls of her vagina were thumping slowly and evenly, in a way that made her feel as though all her gross thick blood-flesh were tiny, perfect grains of sand in a hacky sack, which made her grin like an idiot. She was wearing a tight white cotton T-shirt with dark blue ringers. On the front was an appliqué of a bashful yellow bunny with extravagant eyelashes sitting on the words “GUCCY” intricately embroidered with a very thin kind of rope in ivory tones. It was a fake Gucci shirt from the 1970s, made in Korea, and its label said so. The shirt fit tight (not only did the costumer take it in to make it hug Lisa Marie’s body, she put in sneaky darts, shelving for her breasts, made from the leftover scraps of the shirt). The shirt was tucked into olive army pants from the 1960s that too was taken in to fit Lisa Marie snugly at her waist and crotch. The pants accentuated her rather narrow but very fleshy-fat-padded hips. She wore white athletic socks with dirty canvas sneakers in what could be pale blue or dirty white. All of this, except the socks, was the costume she wore on the set of a film she finished last week.

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