David Bowie I am not

Okay, okay, it’s already 4:30pm on Wednesday, which means I’m one day and approximately two hours late for posting my new piece on Auds and Ends. I’m having a hard time finding a proofreader today, so I’ve decided to throw it up there in all its typoed glory. We like the misspellings, right? It’s more authentically Audrey. Or should I say, authenticly Audrey.

If you haven’t already figured out that my spelling is crap, well, then you don’t really know me all that well. Sure, I use spellcheck, but that doesn’t catch when I write “disgust” instead of “discussed” and “patients” instead of “patience.” (both mistakes that I made in the last week). I like to think I’m a creative speller.

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from my next piece about my complete lack of musical skills. Enjoy.

I can still remember the feel of my first violin in my arms. I rested my four-year-old dimpled chin on the cold black chinrest, felt the smooth wood press into my shoulder, and I hated it. My bow screeched painfully over the strings and made me wince. It was an inhuman screech. An unnatural noise that caused listeners physical and emotional pain, like the sound of a tape player eating your favorite mix tape. I looked at my parents with tears in my eyes while the dog hid under the couch. Read More...