Hello. I’d like to ask a favour of y’all, and I hope it isn’t out of line.
I’ve written this thing (I always write things: not novels, not short stories, but things) and, yes, it is an assignment. I know many of us on the SDMB don’t appreciate doing others homework for them, and that’s why I’m not asking for people’s opinions or advice on the actual writing of the thing.
However, I do need a bit of linguistic help. Y’see, this is a monologue, written from the point of view of a “society cockroach”. He speaks english and interacts with people. And most importantly, he wants a nice suit. (I’m also imagining him to have the voice of William S Burroughs reading R.E.M.'s Star Me Kitten found on the X Files Sdtrk out a few years ago.)
Now, somehow I decided that the cockroach should live in New York City. It seemed only natural - if you can find anything, apparently you’ll find it in NYC, so that’s where I’d expect a small marginalised cockroach community to live.
Anyways, I’m not American, not from NYC and hence I’d appreciate it if anyone would be able to point out any geographical, lingual or other general mistakes that are caused by unfamiliarity with the country and the people. If anything jars, or strikes you as not sounding very American/New Yorkish, I’d appreciate the help.
Again, I’m not asking for help as far as the writing of the thing goes - its my assignment, and I’ll do it. However, if you must comment, I won’t hold it against you. I just want to stress that that isn’t the purpose of the thread.
And it’s only a first draft, and it will be cut down. Just in case you’re wondering.
Monologue No.1 (New York City)
Only – in – America. Only – in – America. Only in America, could a boy who’s nothing be something, and be everything.
That, that is a song by a group that was called Jay and the Americans. Every word of it is true. And nowhere is it more true than New York City.
In New York City, anyone can be anything, whether they are rich or poor, or black or white or even a cockroach. I am a cockroach, and I’m proud of it. A lot of cockroaches are not proud of being cockroaches and deny their heritage, but I don’t go hiding nothing like that. I’m a cockroach and that’s what I am.
If the truth be told, my people have not been so successful. We have not taken advantage of the land of opportunity. A lot of cockroaches attribute this to prejudice on behalf of any number of imagined bogey men: the government, business, the general population, but I do not buy this. We, as cockroaches just have not made the sacrifices required to be successful in this city.
I do not underestimate the virtue of maintaining a respectable appearance. This is something we are not so good at. Cockroaches are not clean. We are actually quite slovenly. Many a cockroach has applied for a job, only to be turned away in favour of a cleaner, better dressed and more human applicant. This is not by any means a rare occurrence.
Many of us have attributed this to some sort of racism, but I do not believe this to be true. Unkempt, dishevelled individuals, whatever their species may be, are not going to get hired. And when I realised this, I think my life changed.
The key to employment, the key to making something of yourself in the greatest city in the world, is appearance. And nothing looks better than a great suit.
I realised this approximately two years, six months, and five days ago. And so began my 918 day quest to find the perfect suit. 918 days and counting, I might add, but each day bring me closer to success. Hard work is just as important as presentation.
The journey has not been easy, I admit. But, life was not meant to be easy. I have scoured obscure basement stores, upmarket designer outlets, malls, boutique fashion shops and even sought the expertise New York’s finest tailors. I have explored every inch of 5th Avenue, combed the entirety of the Upper West Side and delved in and around the most unlikely places in SoHo. Gianni Versace, Yves Saint Laurent, Dolce and Gabbrana, I’ve seen them all, but still I have not found my grail.
A good suit is hard to find. I insist on perfection, and I can guarantee that this is not an easy thing to come across. Some suits fit the leg perfectly but do not sit well on the shell. Many have no allowance for the wings. The additions for my extra legs are often clumsily attached. The best one I have found yet was in Macys, of all places, but it had tails and I hate tails. Fortunately it was double breasted. I will instantly reject a single breasted suit; that is a suit for boys and fat old men. A true gentleman will always wear a double-breasted suit.
Another that I was fond of was found on a street stand on the Upper East Side. It was a little dusty, but save for that tolerable imperfection, which could easily be remedied, it was almost perfect.
Alas, it was pin-striped. Pin-striped is coming back into fashion, but the style is too flighty. A good suit will last forever. It will remain independent of trends, rising above the twists and turns of everyday dress. It is constant, steady, a god amongst clothing.
I have encountered problems along the way. The first time I ventured into a more upmarket location, I had not made two steps through the doorway before I was attacked by a shop-assistant wielding a spray can. It was all I could do to crawl back out into the street, flip upon my back and begin flailing my legs wildly.
But we cockroaches are resilient. We would survive a nuclear war. A dose of Raid could not deter me from my goal to dress sharp.
Today, I will continue this journey. I have heard of a small menswear retailer over the river in Jersey City, and I have a feeling that today will be the day. After all, each day brings me closer to that suit. And each day I am closer to becoming a success.
Thanky’verymuch. I’m pretty sure my emails in my profile, cuz I’ve received emails from other dopers before.