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I need to write a paper about aspects of narration. I want to use this poem because its form is so different from typical storytelling. However, I can’t figure out where to start with this one. Any pointers?
THE INDIVIDUAL’S SOLILOQUY
I’m the individual.
First I lived by a rock
(I scratched some figures on it)
Then I looked for some place more suitable.
I’m the individual.
First I had to get myself food,
Hunt for fish, birds, hunt up wood
(I’d take care of the rest later)
Make a fire,
Wood, wood, where could I find any wood,
Some wood to start a little fire,
I’m the individual.
At the time I was asking myself,
Went to a canyon filled with air;
A voice answered me back:
I’m the individual.
So then I started moving to another rock,
I also scratched figures there,
Scratched out a river, buffaloes,
Scratched a serpent
I’m the individual.
But I got bored with what I was doing,
Fire annoyed me,
I wanted to see more,
I’m the individual.
Went down to a valley watered by a river,
There I found what I was looking for,
A bunch of savages,
A tribe,
I’m the individual.
I saw they made certain things,
Scratching figures on the rocks,
Making fire, also making fire!
I’m the individual.
They asked me where I came from.
I answered yes, that I had no definite plans,
I answered no, that from here on out.
O.K.
I then took a stone I found in the river
And began working on it,
Polishing it up,
I made it a part of my life.
But it’s a long story.
I chopped some trees to sail on
Looking for fish,
Looking for lots of things,
(I’m the individual.)
Till I began getting bored again.
Storms get boring,
Thunder, lightning,
I’m the individual.
O.K.
I began thinking a little bit,
Supid questions came into my head,
Doubletalk.
So then I began wandering through forests,
I came to a tree, then another tree,
I came to a spring,
A hole with a couple of rats in it;
So here I come, I said,
Anybody seen a tribe around here,
Savage people who make fire?
That’s how I moved on westward,
Accompanied by others,
Or rather alone,
Believing is seeing, they told me,
I’m the individual.
I saw shapes in the darkness,
Clouds maybe,
Maybe I saw clouds, or sheet lightning,
Meanwhile several days had gone by,
I felt as if I were dying;
Invented some machines,
Constructed clocks,
Weapons, vehicles,
I’m the individual.
Hardly had time to bury my dead,
Hardly had time to sow,
I’m the individual.
Years later I conceived a few things,
A few forms,
Crossed frontiers,
And got stuck in a kind of niche,
In a bark that sailed forty days,
Forty nights,
I’m the individual.
Then came the droughts,
Then came the wars,
Colored guys entered the valley,
But I had to keep going,
Had to produce.
Produced science, immutable truths,
Produced Tanagras,
Hatched up thousand-page books.
My face got swollen,
Invented a phonograph,
The sewing machine,
The first automobiles began to appear,
I’m the individual.
Someone set up planets,
Trees got set up!
But I set up hardware,
Furniture, stationery,
I’m the individual.
Cities also got built,
Highways,
Religious institutions went out of fashion,
They looked for joy, they looked for happiness,
I’m the individual.
Afterward I devoted myself to travel,
Practicing, practicing languages
Languages,
I’m the individual.
I looked into a keyhole,
Sure, I looked, what am I saying, looked,
To get rid of all doubt looked,
Behind the curtains,
I’m the individual.
O.K.
Perhaps I better go back to that valley,
To that rock that was home,
And start scratching all over again,
Scratching out everything backward,
The world in reverse.
But life doesn’t make sense.

Fantastic quote by Mira Sorvino on Slavery!
ie, Mira the American actress and political activist affiliated with Amnesty International. Graduated Magna *** laude from Harvard. As well, she speaks fluent Mandarin.
“Why does it not say anywhere in the Bible that Slavery is wrong?
… How is it possible that it is not immoral to own another person? Why isn’t that one of the Ten Commandments? ‘Thou shalt not own another person.’ You want to sit here and tell me that fornication (Or cheating on your spouse) is worse than owning someone?”
The reason I’m asking this is: My ancestors & family are very passionate Christians and I have my differences with them. I thought that by showing the above quote IN THEIR NATIVE LANGUAGE, I may be able to drive the point home just a little harder.
a little background: I was born in the USA and I cannot read or write in Malayalam. I can only speak.
Thank you, kind souls 🙂

I’m 28 years old and I’m unemployed.
My fiancee was unemployed for eight months and recently found a job. She’s elated, and we have some income rolling in, but I have to always cash some of my stocks in my IRA brokerage portfolio, which was meant for our future retirement fund and I’ve been out of work for four months now. I have a BA in English, but I’ve worked as a handyman, I know how to lay tile, all the traits affiliated with carpentry, I speak four languages fluently and cannot find a job, here in Tampa, FL.
After I had graduated, I couldn’t find a job stateside, so I lived in Madrid, working for the Spanish Ministry of Education, teaching in a bilingual public school. Six months later, when the program ended, I couldn’t find a job, so my fiancee’s mom got me a temp job working at Lockheed Martin, as a shipping/receiving clerk, for barely $13 an hour, but a year later, I got a job at L’Oreal, as a procurement analyst, making $38,000 a year. I lost that job six months later, due to a massive layoff within the company.
So, I find myself unemployed, unable to find work anywhere. I’ve applied to gas stations, manual labor jobs, construction. I would even dig a ditch if somebody paid me. Also, my friends, who have degrees in Chemistry, Engineering, etc, cannot find jobs either and I have friends that used to be electricians, plumbers, welders, and they are jobless as well. There are simply no jobs stateside.
What are some tips to keep out of depression? What would be some job tips you would use in a situation like this?
I also worked 80 hour weeks at Lockheed Martin and didn’t mind it one bit, because I was being paid. I’m not lazy.
Thanks.

In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, or a reminder that medicines were due, he found little attraction. The few fruit-trees that it contained were set jealously apart from his plucking, as though they were rare specimens of their kind blooming in an arid waste; it would probably have been difficult to find a market-gardener who would have offered ten shillings for their entire yearly produce. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a dismal shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed of respectable proportions, and within its walls Conradin found a haven, something that took on the varying aspects of a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with a legion of familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch, divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret, which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for a long-secreted hoard of small silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the lithe, sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept scrupulously from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed his cousin. And one day, out of Heaven knows what material, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite in the House of Rimmon. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped with mystic and elaborate ceremonial before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid some special stress on the fierce impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman’s religion, which, as far as Conradin could observe, went to great lengths in the contrary direction. And on great festivals powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch, an important feature of the offering being that the nutmeg had to be stolen. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache. If the malady had lasted for another day the supply of nutmeg would have given out.
Here is the passage:
The Houdan hen was never drawn into the cult of Sredni Vashtar. Conradin had long ago settled that she was an Anabaptist. He did not pretend to have the remotest knowledge as to what an Anabaptist was, but he privately hoped that it was dashing and not very respectable. Mrs. De Ropp was the ground plan on which he based and detested all respectability.
This is the Answers given to me:
imagination
pantheism
religion
rebellion

basically it’s about two rival gangs meeting their end due to a vengeful ghost from their past lifetime.
arjun,roshan and freddy were good friends,until they realised the potential of drug market in the city.arjun and roshan make a gang for themselves while freddy teams up with abhi and gautum(two close friends).abhi has always loved this girl shreya but she loves arjun and doesn’t actually notice abhi.gautum has a phobia of ghosts from his childhood experiences which is a secret only abhi knows.the two gangs fight over the drug market in the city countless times without anyone actually winning.then one day shreya accepts abhi’s love but makes it necessary for abhi to kill freddy for her as she convinces him freddy has been misbehaving to her for sometime.convinced by this abhi devices a plan to kill freddy and put the blame gautum for it.the night of the murder comes.it’s gautum’s bd and abhi arrives at their place with drinks.now abhi plans to summon the ghost of a young man who died years ago at the place their staying.using this ghost abhi hopes to make gautum go out of control and in between this confusion plans to kill freddy with a knife and then finally placing the knife on gautum’s hands.after a few drinks abhi summons the ghost avoiding gautum’s dissapproval.the ghost appears on the mirror in purple.gautum becomes insane.freddy is killed.but abhi feels guilty for killing his friend.he forgets the rest of his plan.now he informs shreya of the murder and she tells him of the deal she made with arjun for her love.abhi looses all sense and the ghost starts teasing him.now the ghost tells him a story about his life and how he was killed by 6
of his so called friends.abhi vaguely listens but driven mad he commits suicide.the ghost just looks on and smiles.shreya calls arjun and reports the news of freddy’s death.arjun overjoyed at his enemy’s defeat now tells shreya how he used her for his plans.guilt overcomes her and she ends her life.at this point arjun is safe and all his enemies are dead or mad.but roshan arjun’s right hand starts feeling sorry for his old friend and angry at arjun’s evil ways.he kills arjun and moves his body to where the others are.once there he leaves the body and carefully places the knife in gautum’s hands.the ghost having dissappeared for a while now reappears and appears happy that his revenge is quinched by fate.
don’t worry if there are some logical problems to this story.i will make up for it.tell me if this is a good story.you can tell me your suggestions like altering a particular part of the story or additional characters.backstory for each character.like why roshan stands with arjun other than freddy first time.filling up the ghost’s story with the other characters in their past life keeping roshan in a positive role as he is the only survivor at the end of this.also does this story show any resemblence to other stories?is there a story with gangs and ghosts other than this?
thankyou in advance……….

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