Spell Me Straight

I have been writing professionally for thirty years now. I have written endless blog posts, short stories. novels, manifestos, ransom letters, suicide notes, sexual propositions, violent threats, community complaints, essays, philosophical meanderings, pornographic invitations to come over to my home. In all this time spent writing you would think that I would have learned how to spell.

But I can’t spell. My spelling sucks. I mean the other day I spelled nut shell wrong! How simpltonian is that? No matter how hard I have tried I have a spelling block in my brain. I was beaten by the spelling bee a long time ago. I am not sure what that sentence means but I like it anyways.

A writer with an inability to spell is like a psychotherapist with a fucked up personal life. I am both of these things. A man not destined for the straight and narrow path. A continual abbreviation and a constant contradiction. I am one who will never be spelled straight. I don’t know what that sentence means but I like it anyways.

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