Laura Castellano

In the age of spell-check dependency, he who attempts to spell "senescent" on stage without the help of a computer program should be respected. "Senescent," number 58 repeats, with no sign of worry. Then, looking toward the judges: "Please define the word." He brings his beer to his lips; his goatee is bushy and full. "The word means growing old," a judge calls back.

The First Annual Adult Spelling Bee, which benefits Howard Area Community Center in Rogers Park, is held at the Morseland. Tonight’s winner will receive a trophy, prizes and, the emcee promises, a "modicum of fame."

The crowd, now partly made up of the first-round losers, is rowdy. They moan at words they think are easier than the words given to them: "diocese," "heinousness," "deciduous." They start to heckle their peers; the judges raise their rulers as a warning. The final contestants now sit in plastic children’s chairs on stage. Their numbers hang from colorful yarn around their necks. The crowd cheers for number 58—the only finalist who actually grew up in Chicago, but he fails at "senescent."

Two women remain and giggle together at the absurdity of their situation. The drunken crowd groans at what seems like an easy word (sounds like toxin). "This may be crazy, but I’m gonna try it," says number 53. She looks up to the ceiling: "T-O-C-S-I-N." It’s not the winning word, but it might as well be. She follows it up with a careful spelling of "juxtapose." Her hands are shaking. She covers her mouth in disbelief.

(2007-12-18)

Also by Laura Castellano

Dork City
The intersection of art and technology is here in Logan Square, in a loft space about the size of a small one bedroom. A simple black-and-white laser-printed sign is on the door downstairs. "Dorkbot. It’s who shows up and what gets shown off," says mohawked organizer, Rob Ray
(2007-12-04)

Lunch Break
A cherry red mannequin with horns and breasts leans provocatively against the carpeted steps near the back of Quimbys Bookstore in Wicker Park. The heat is turned up a little too hot in here and the crowd is just a tad too quiet. The audience shifts uncomfortably in their metal folding chairs, and the she-devil calmly awaits Lydia Lunch: author, singer, filmmaker, performer. Just as the heat becomes stifling, Lunch and her entourage open the glass doors and let in a cool breeze—she’s here to read from her recently released memoir, "Paradoxia: A Predator's Diary"
(2007-11-13)

The Perfect Cup
For someone who has already drunk roughly six cups of coffee (espresso and drip cup) by 1:30pm in the afternoon, Intelligentsia's designer, Matt Riddle, is far from excitable. Of course, that doesn't mean he's without excitement
(2007-11-06)

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