tengo miedo, todo alrededor son sonidos de personas que no conozco y que seguramente tendrán que verme aquí, sentada. Soy la única bajo la luz y sin embargo no me siento tan sola. Me tengo. Ellos son más y parece que se acercan, pero yo debo tener más fuerzas.
my audience is my family and my friends and my love and the world. they smile and i smile they laugh and i laugh it is hard to tell who i am without them. they have formed me and i have touched their lives as well. i perform what i can they have ssen my best pieces and my worst pieces and still love me for it.
They can be a good judge of one’s work or a bunch of people who have come together and put aside their individual sense of critique to become a mass of sheep following the latest trends or thoughts as proposed by someone who they think is smarter than them.
the audience cleared their throats as loudly as possible. anything to force the obnoxiously desperate actors to stop the script dead in its tracks. oh lord, it was death to bear the droning of verbs and nouns amidst sighs of contempt.
two is not enough when you’re playing for an audience of one. thick fog rolls in, across the golden gate. when i spot a black skirt straddling the bar like it’s a quarter a ride. and I said “ma’am how was your day? keep your eyes on my face. I’ll help you, if you let me.”
the best thing about the audience is it is them who make the gig what it is!
If they aren’t in the mood, or don’t like the band then the performance could be the best in the world, but it really doesn’t matter; the gig will be poor.
However, when the audience are up for it, then the gig can be phenomenal. Even, ironically when the band aren’t at their best. Weird.
Phillipe stepped on stage and inhaled sharply as he looked out into. Only a vast sea of empty seats greeted him, for not a single person had come to hear him sing, to see him perform. He took a deep breath and approached the microphone.
a theatre. a lovely lady appears. she waves to the people eagerly awaiting their idol. they cheer. she bows her head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. “i love you all” she whispers, and disappears into the wings.
I am my brothers audiences. I know this. I accept this. I will watch and smile as he cons some bar flies out of a couple hundreds. I will make the appropriate noses of affirmation during one of his rants. I will even go as far as to congratulate him when he shows me the freshly decapitated head of a vampire. But for the love of god if I hear one more story about how he “Total banged this one really hot chick” I will kill my self.
I looked out into the audience and saw my brother, he sat with his wife. She didn’t look too happy with him but my cousin Monika was with them. She sent me a smile and a wave and I knew everything was going to go just fine.
Philippe stepped out on stage and immediately noticed that no one was there. Not a single person had showed up to hear him sing, to see him perform. He took a deep breath and approached the microphone.
People that clap, people that pretend to understand your art, pretend to understand the hours you spent creating a person, the hours you spent becoming that person in mind and then the countless seconds that passed as you perfected that person so that other people would percieve you to be him or her. Clap, but don’t pretend you understand. Audience. . .
we only got one world, take care of it.
we only got one world, take the time to apreciate it,
we only got one world, love it
we only got one world, feel it.
There are so many people watching me and I don’t know what to do or say. Who are these people? Why are they staring at me? I don’t even care right now. I think I am better, no, I know that I am better than them. Clap. Clap. Clap. Good night.
It’s all about the audience. That’s what our English professor has been teaching us. She’d be so proud to see me write this here, and know it’s the first word that comes to mind. Audience scares me. Especially in person. Just the thought of public speaking makes me nauseated. That’s why I write, because you don’t have to be around when they read it.
I didn’t want an audience. Spectators make everything unbearable, the heavy weight of their judgemental eyes calculating and tabulating your every move. If I mess up, it’s enough that I know. I don’t need another 300 strangers to watch me fail. Their gaze makes me sweat. I’m not here to entertain anyone.
Really? you all are my audience, and it shows a large part of our personalities. We like to be heard, and want to know what other people think. We have our own universes and enjoy the connections that we make by typing about random subjects. We are creative, or like to think so, and yearn to read what previous encounters with a word has brought out.
The audience applauds as they see him back away from the stage triumphant in victory. He yanks off his mask to reveal his hideously disfigured face, the audience Gasps in horror, how could a performance so beautiful come from a man of that form?
they’re watching me
i walk across the lonely stage
it’s just me and yamaha
she a baby, and japanese, smooth and black
with ivory keys
i sit down. we make music
but they’re still watching us, watching every move we make
it’s unsettling.
We all live for an audience. We like to think that we don’t — but I suspect that those who protest the most that they don’t care what others think — I suspect that that protestation is, in fact, intended for an audience.
What matters is our relationship with our audience. Do you seek to entertain them or to be informed by them?
I thrive with an audience. It seems at times that if I do not have one, I do not preform. But when I do, oh when I do, watch me go. I feel the need to impress, to put on a show. One needs an audiences to do that.
The take my love and let me down, the isle is a burning coffin, and I scoop myself up in a hand full of shells and let the sand break my teeth. I will never be a woman who has red stick heels. I will unfurl into the slippers of a ghost.
If I was alone in the world, it wouldn’t bother me. But they are watching me all the time, judging. I hide under a blanket of indifference, when all I want from the world is acceptance.
many sound and music lovers haters supporters. people of change, molding the world or becoming tractable by my work. dictators and followers. artists themselves. made by many but all are one. one people. justice in good and evil.
audiences scare some people. They don’t scare me though. I like to do public speaking. It soothes me. That’s why I like to be a news anchor. I like for people to hear me and I like to hear myself. No matter how egotistical that may sound. I like it. It’s me. And i feel like I have important things to say. Is that such a bad thing?
i hate being in front of an audience it scares me, i always feel like someones out there laughing at me of making fun of me. sometimes i feel like they want to kill me. im not sure how to feel about it all. it just scares me. is that silly? i guess so, after all who will read this?
theater
nervous
Audiences can man everything to a performer
Woodstock had a huge audience
Audiences can be loud
It is fun to be part of a mass audience
everyone does so many things for show. they leave nothing for themselves. if everything is about everyone else. how can anything be genuine or authentic? How can we ever satisfy ourselves. The audience doesnt really care about you. they care about the show. We are more than a show. we are human beings. we want love. not some sad replacement. not uneeded attention.
Don’t do it for them.
the audience sat in complete silence and darkness, waiting for the lights to come on and the curtain to part. at last, the lights begin flickering on and the velvety red curtains are flung open revealing a plethora of naked men and women. what the fuck?
Here we go again. Standing like a deer in some highbeams, I feel my mouth become almost impossibly dry. I begin to think about my drenched-with-sweat palms.
play show watching nervous sweating stuttering. not for me. concert. i love concerts. especially in the summer.. rascal flatts! oh my goodness……… i dont know what to write.
The audience clapped loudly after we finished our show. Everyone always loved the Symphonic Band, so this was no surprise. I came off stage feeling the same as I always do, like we played OKAY but not as well as we could’ve. We had to go sit in a wing of the auditorium before we could leave, and I could feel both the eyes of my ex and a band-mate . I honestly was just bothered by my ex, and I was intrigued by peer. I had only noticed him a few times in the years before so it was a little odd that he was looking at me instead of someone more interesting to him. The thing that changed my view was a few weeks after our performance when we were getting ready for a competition. I had not gone after him, but my best friend instead. I found out a day later that this was a stupid decision, because we split and he decided to bad-mouth me. But I stood near the door talking to a friend when the potential came sneakily behind her and gave me a look that could pierce through hundreds of sheets of bullet-proof glass. I felt my heart stop as I stood there in confusion. Up to this point, the only things he had ever done of the sort were the occasion where he stared at my ex and I together, and when he saw me trying to make my ex pay some sort of attention to me. I had always thought he was a pompous, self- absorbed, inconsiderate prick just purely because i’ve always considered myself to be a “popular misfit” and he was at the top of the social ladder. I thought he’d be a horrible person because of this, and I was completely biased in that. So imagine my surprise when he gave me a look that said a thousand words of attraction just with two eyes. I watched him from that day on and became interested just because of that one look, which is apparently the famous trademark of his sign, Scorpio. It’s surprising what one little thing can do to a situation.
A group of people fixated on one person or activity taking place likely in the front of the room. Staring. Hundreds of people, if they’re laughing I hope they are meant to. Nervous.
tengo miedo, todo alrededor son sonidos de personas que no conozco y que seguramente tendrán que verme aquí, sentada. Soy la única bajo la luz y sin embargo no me siento tan sola. Me tengo. Ellos son más y parece que se acercan, pero yo debo tener más fuerzas.
my audience is my family and my friends and my love and the world. they smile and i smile they laugh and i laugh it is hard to tell who i am without them. they have formed me and i have touched their lives as well. i perform what i can they have ssen my best pieces and my worst pieces and still love me for it.
They can be a good judge of one’s work or a bunch of people who have come together and put aside their individual sense of critique to become a mass of sheep following the latest trends or thoughts as proposed by someone who they think is smarter than them.
the audience cleared their throats as loudly as possible. anything to force the obnoxiously desperate actors to stop the script dead in its tracks. oh lord, it was death to bear the droning of verbs and nouns amidst sighs of contempt.
two is not enough when you’re playing for an audience of one. thick fog rolls in, across the golden gate. when i spot a black skirt straddling the bar like it’s a quarter a ride. and I said “ma’am how was your day? keep your eyes on my face. I’ll help you, if you let me.”
the best thing about the audience is it is them who make the gig what it is!
If they aren’t in the mood, or don’t like the band then the performance could be the best in the world, but it really doesn’t matter; the gig will be poor.
However, when the audience are up for it, then the gig can be phenomenal. Even, ironically when the band aren’t at their best. Weird.
Phillipe stepped on stage and inhaled sharply as he looked out into. Only a vast sea of empty seats greeted him, for not a single person had come to hear him sing, to see him perform. He took a deep breath and approached the microphone.
a theatre. a lovely lady appears. she waves to the people eagerly awaiting their idol. they cheer. she bows her head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. “i love you all” she whispers, and disappears into the wings.
I am my brothers audiences. I know this. I accept this. I will watch and smile as he cons some bar flies out of a couple hundreds. I will make the appropriate noses of affirmation during one of his rants. I will even go as far as to congratulate him when he shows me the freshly decapitated head of a vampire. But for the love of god if I hear one more story about how he “Total banged this one really hot chick” I will kill my self.
I looked out into the audience and saw my brother, he sat with his wife. She didn’t look too happy with him but my cousin Monika was with them. She sent me a smile and a wave and I knew everything was going to go just fine.
Philippe stepped out on stage and immediately noticed that no one was there. Not a single person had showed up to hear him sing, to see him perform. He took a deep breath and approached the microphone.
stage fright, amusement and bright lights
attention whores.
People that clap, people that pretend to understand your art, pretend to understand the hours you spent creating a person, the hours you spent becoming that person in mind and then the countless seconds that passed as you perfected that person so that other people would percieve you to be him or her. Clap, but don’t pretend you understand. Audience. . .
we only got one world, take care of it.
we only got one world, take the time to apreciate it,
we only got one world, love it
we only got one world, feel it.
There are so many people watching me and I don’t know what to do or say. Who are these people? Why are they staring at me? I don’t even care right now. I think I am better, no, I know that I am better than them. Clap. Clap. Clap. Good night.
This isn’t a very good word.
It’s all about the audience. That’s what our English professor has been teaching us. She’d be so proud to see me write this here, and know it’s the first word that comes to mind. Audience scares me. Especially in person. Just the thought of public speaking makes me nauseated. That’s why I write, because you don’t have to be around when they read it.
A sea of judges.
I didn’t want an audience. Spectators make everything unbearable, the heavy weight of their judgemental eyes calculating and tabulating your every move. If I mess up, it’s enough that I know. I don’t need another 300 strangers to watch me fail. Their gaze makes me sweat. I’m not here to entertain anyone.
It’s similar to crowd. Usually im part of the audience but i dont like following the crowd.
Really? you all are my audience, and it shows a large part of our personalities. We like to be heard, and want to know what other people think. We have our own universes and enjoy the connections that we make by typing about random subjects. We are creative, or like to think so, and yearn to read what previous encounters with a word has brought out.
The audience applauds as they see him back away from the stage triumphant in victory. He yanks off his mask to reveal his hideously disfigured face, the audience Gasps in horror, how could a performance so beautiful come from a man of that form?
they’re watching me
i walk across the lonely stage
it’s just me and yamaha
she a baby, and japanese, smooth and black
with ivory keys
i sit down. we make music
but they’re still watching us, watching every move we make
it’s unsettling.
an audience sees.. they see artists in action. they are fickle and cruel, yet they can be loving.
We all live for an audience. We like to think that we don’t — but I suspect that those who protest the most that they don’t care what others think — I suspect that that protestation is, in fact, intended for an audience.
What matters is our relationship with our audience. Do you seek to entertain them or to be informed by them?
I thrive with an audience. It seems at times that if I do not have one, I do not preform. But when I do, oh when I do, watch me go. I feel the need to impress, to put on a show. One needs an audiences to do that.
Little hands bleat claps for the sore throated dinosaur of a parents laughter.
The take my love and let me down, the isle is a burning coffin, and I scoop myself up in a hand full of shells and let the sand break my teeth. I will never be a woman who has red stick heels. I will unfurl into the slippers of a ghost.
If I was alone in the world, it wouldn’t bother me. But they are watching me all the time, judging. I hide under a blanket of indifference, when all I want from the world is acceptance.
many sound and music lovers haters supporters. people of change, molding the world or becoming tractable by my work. dictators and followers. artists themselves. made by many but all are one. one people. justice in good and evil.
audiences scare some people. They don’t scare me though. I like to do public speaking. It soothes me. That’s why I like to be a news anchor. I like for people to hear me and I like to hear myself. No matter how egotistical that may sound. I like it. It’s me. And i feel like I have important things to say. Is that such a bad thing?
i hate being in front of an audience it scares me, i always feel like someones out there laughing at me of making fun of me. sometimes i feel like they want to kill me. im not sure how to feel about it all. it just scares me. is that silly? i guess so, after all who will read this?
theater
nervous
Audiences can man everything to a performer
Woodstock had a huge audience
Audiences can be loud
It is fun to be part of a mass audience
everyone does so many things for show. they leave nothing for themselves. if everything is about everyone else. how can anything be genuine or authentic? How can we ever satisfy ourselves. The audience doesnt really care about you. they care about the show. We are more than a show. we are human beings. we want love. not some sad replacement. not uneeded attention.
Don’t do it for them.
the audience sat in complete silence and darkness, waiting for the lights to come on and the curtain to part. at last, the lights begin flickering on and the velvety red curtains are flung open revealing a plethora of naked men and women. what the fuck?
Here we go again. Standing like a deer in some highbeams, I feel my mouth become almost impossibly dry. I begin to think about my drenched-with-sweat palms.
play show watching nervous sweating stuttering. not for me. concert. i love concerts. especially in the summer.. rascal flatts! oh my goodness……… i dont know what to write.
The audience clapped loudly after we finished our show. Everyone always loved the Symphonic Band, so this was no surprise. I came off stage feeling the same as I always do, like we played OKAY but not as well as we could’ve. We had to go sit in a wing of the auditorium before we could leave, and I could feel both the eyes of my ex and a band-mate . I honestly was just bothered by my ex, and I was intrigued by peer. I had only noticed him a few times in the years before so it was a little odd that he was looking at me instead of someone more interesting to him. The thing that changed my view was a few weeks after our performance when we were getting ready for a competition. I had not gone after him, but my best friend instead. I found out a day later that this was a stupid decision, because we split and he decided to bad-mouth me. But I stood near the door talking to a friend when the potential came sneakily behind her and gave me a look that could pierce through hundreds of sheets of bullet-proof glass. I felt my heart stop as I stood there in confusion. Up to this point, the only things he had ever done of the sort were the occasion where he stared at my ex and I together, and when he saw me trying to make my ex pay some sort of attention to me. I had always thought he was a pompous, self- absorbed, inconsiderate prick just purely because i’ve always considered myself to be a “popular misfit” and he was at the top of the social ladder. I thought he’d be a horrible person because of this, and I was completely biased in that. So imagine my surprise when he gave me a look that said a thousand words of attraction just with two eyes. I watched him from that day on and became interested just because of that one look, which is apparently the famous trademark of his sign, Scorpio. It’s surprising what one little thing can do to a situation.
room
stage
clapping
talking
laughter
chairs
movie theaters
cinema
broadway
hearing
A group of people fixated on one person or activity taking place likely in the front of the room. Staring. Hundreds of people, if they’re laughing I hope they are meant to. Nervous.