I look out into the audience, but I can’t see anything. The white hot lights beat down on my forehead, creating tiny beads of sweat that drip down my temples to my neck to my chest. And I let it all go. I sing.
audience is key when thinking about anything, whether it is a speech, a book, a meeting. socailizing in general. the audience is who you are speaking for. if there is no audience, then why bother opening your mouth? audience is in mind when you get up, shower, get dressed…. why even bother when there is no one to impres, no one to judge you or say what kind of person you are by how you present yourself or how you present a subject and/or yourself.
clapping sitting laughing living spying spiders loud laugh kill murder babies feathers peacock there was once a sea and no one knew what to do about it and the world almost ended before she saved herself with her teeth no one said that was an okay thing for an audience to see ever ever
se lleva a cabo, en situaciones problematicas, en donde más de una persona necesitan resolver dicho problema, teniendo así más de una opinión, llegando a la solución ideal.
puede suceder en un ambiente legal y escolar.
Who is my audience? And when it comes down to the end of the day and I have done all I can do on the stage of life, who sits in the front row and applauds? Who sits in the back in the shadows by the door so they can sneak out if the show gets too boring? Who sits by the soundbooth, notepad in hand, scribbling out criticisms to rehash at a later date? My life is a performance for anyone who cares to watch. I star in my own show. Who is my audience?
All you want is an audience. Someone, something to hear the echo of your voice as it reverberates without meaning into the vast space between one ear and the other. You just want someone to listen to your endless babble. Even though no matter what or who hears you speak, it’ll never give you the validity you wish for.
i feel i’m walking through a crowd
applauding each other all the time.
everyone’s a performer now,
and everyone would rather speak than love.
forget me, forget me, you will one day, all the same.
i’ll be as erased from the memory of your flesh
as the plow disregards the grain.
you don’t need an audience
you can clap enough for yourself.
i’m just here lest the sunrise comes
and leaves me all alone.
i step onto the stage. the lights beat down on me and the music starts. my hands shake a little as i step into the spot light, and begin to sing. i belt, i cry, i smile and finally end the song with a hIGH c and the crowd erupts into applause; my night is made.
audience of one. people watching. scared, can’t breathe. unsuspecting, blind audiences everywhere. performing on stage, staring blankly out into equally blank faces. music. the audience goes dark and its just me. they all go away and in the end, its just me. alone. in an empty room. they don’t matter until the song is done, until we unplug our cables, put down our instruments, and look for our proud moms and dads and friends and even strangers, standing blindly in the audience.
The audience was full of people with big eyes. I took a deep breath and queued my pianist. As the first sound arose from my instrument, my bow gliding gently across the strings everyones eyes grew wider. This is what I love.
I really hate being watched by an audience. Is it only me, or anyone else gets all red an sweaty when being in front of one? I would rather be part of one, if given the choice.
i hate talking to an audience. i just cannot imagine speaking with a group of more than 10 people. it scares the hell out of me. but i love being in the audience. the feeling of being in control. you not there to be in a spot. you are part of a crowd. its just more comforting
People who watch with their eyes open. people who listen with their ears. people who sit back and watch or listen to what is being played or producted. they may experience: love, hate, anger, they may laugh or cry. audience: Random people with an opinion!
the audience waits patiently for the show to begin. The are coughing and sorting their belongings, hands twitch nervously in laps. As more people arrive necks begin to crane backwards to see if the doors have been shut. Disgruntled people jump up to allow latecomers to take their seats.
The audience is what you live for and what you die for. It’s all about them. You are nothing but a prop for their amusement, but nothing can fulfill you quite like captivating them. They should be everything to you when you’re up there, or you’re doing something wrong. Because even though they own you, the greatest pleasure comes from you having them in the palm of your hand.
It’s as if they don’t see me anymore. The white paste has enveloped my face and like a mime my voice is nonexistent. I’m nothing more than a blur in the background to an audience of sleep heavy pairs of eyes. I couldn’t even get the lead in this mock life, instead I’m nothing more than an extra.
theres a stage a single shadow of a young man stands on the empty floor his white tie screams with the sins of a thousand holy men like doves they fly into the curtians and swarm the stage the man looks out a million white eyes. they dont blink. he doesnt say a word. Suddenly the theatre catches on fire and in the back of her mind she knows it isn’t real but the fire gets hotter and the show isnt over but you’ve got to relax its just part of the act and in the end we will wait till the audience can clap.
the audience is waiting for the show to start, but the performers arent ready to start the show. The audience gets upset and starts to throw beverages at the stage, the staff clean it up and finally the show starts. the show was a complete failure, and the audience scram at the performers.
i love audiences. I love being in front of audiences. knowing that everyone is expecting you to play something and you are the attention? its awesome. I feed off of it. during drumline, it literally was an adrenaline high. the minute that i saw the people i got this feeling like nothing else. like i could do anything. that was the happiest time of my life, ever.
stand up in front of the crowd and quiver, every eye is heavy with judgment. surely they all think of failure and the thoughts permeate each mind until by some telepathic osmosis they reach your mind, and cripple it indefinitely. how is it done? how does anyone continue in a world like this?
And then the audience heard ME clap. I was clapping for them, and they were confused. But why? Because they were people, and every person is unique. That is why the world spins round. They needed to know that, they needed to love themselves and others like them. That’s why.
the audience was clapping loudly. they couldn’t be as happy. The only thing they could remember as awesome as this was sliced bread. it’s amazing what it was
they watch you. you picture them naked but it doesnt help. if you make them laugh, you feel validated. if they cry, you similarly feel valid, but also empowered. they are your playthings. you have control. you can change their entire day for better or worse. the worst you can do is be a bore-which would be worse than falling on your face–because at least then they’d get a chuckle out of the experience.
The audience sat in wonder. How did it happen? How did he do it? Magic? Supernatural powers? Was he a god? They all wonder, but I know. He generally pulls the rabbit out of a compartment made into the hat. Simple. But for fourth graders the best the trick in the world. Me? Who am I you ask? Don’t tell anyone that I’m a fifth grader.
While at the play the audience loved the part where the girls all pretended they were the “popular girls” and then ran to sing a song, fell on the ground, and then all of the jocks over ruled them but running as if they were on the football field.
there are many people in an audience and they all expect a show. the show could be many things but the audience is what makes it worth performing. the audience is the show.
The audience stared me down as I returned the favor. The silence began to deafen each and every one of us. My hands were sweaty as I reached for the microphone. The tension was so thick you could cut through the air with a knife.
Haha, this is great for me. I love to perform. I love to be in front of an audience. I think performing is where I want to be for the rest of my life. LAAAAAALAAAALAAAA!
the audience was unforgiving and made up of cold hard stares. it was like every experience i had ever had with these critics: they watch your every move and try to pick apart everything you spend so long trying to build.
i was on stage and all i can image is the audience. Thinking about my every move and i get stiff, scared, i freeze. All i can do is stutter but i know its my time to shine. To get everything out. They came here to see me. All of a sudden i hear the applause. Can it be already over of did i choke?
The audience. A collective. A mob. A hive of minds with different flavors, all bent towards one purpose: listening/watching/enjoying/mocking you. Yes, you. If you were to look out over the audience, you may see a bunch of individuals, with individual pairs of eyes
She looked out at the audience and suddenly froze up, unable to continue speaking. The boys in the back of the school auditorium were holding up fingers, counting her “ums” and snickering to each other. “Oh my goodness why is this happening to me this should not be happening to me and why am I talking so fast and why do I keep stuttering and why am I sweating so much?” she thought.
they are watching, staring, like there is something wrong. I walk to the edge of the stage. They are looking past me, through me, almost
Then I turn.
I notice something
I am in front of a mirror.
And I am not visible.
They are captivated with themselves.
Audiences are always fun. They can be happy, sad, angry, nice, mean, jubilant, curious, excited, humorless, funny, loud, silent, pensive. But they always love a good joke.
I can feel them working their way through my bloodstream as my face gets harder to move and my body begins to feel heavier and yet lighter at the same time. I can’t form a single coherent thought as the bass is pounding through the floor and my ears are ringing. Here I am jumping to the music in the audience and yet I can’t feel myself there, I am floating above all of it, watching as the crowd shifts and the people rage.
I look out into the audience, but I can’t see anything. The white hot lights beat down on my forehead, creating tiny beads of sweat that drip down my temples to my neck to my chest. And I let it all go. I sing.
audience is key when thinking about anything, whether it is a speech, a book, a meeting. socailizing in general. the audience is who you are speaking for. if there is no audience, then why bother opening your mouth? audience is in mind when you get up, shower, get dressed…. why even bother when there is no one to impres, no one to judge you or say what kind of person you are by how you present yourself or how you present a subject and/or yourself.
clapping sitting laughing living spying spiders loud laugh kill murder babies feathers peacock there was once a sea and no one knew what to do about it and the world almost ended before she saved herself with her teeth no one said that was an okay thing for an audience to see ever ever
se lleva a cabo, en situaciones problematicas, en donde más de una persona necesitan resolver dicho problema, teniendo así más de una opinión, llegando a la solución ideal.
puede suceder en un ambiente legal y escolar.
Who is my audience? And when it comes down to the end of the day and I have done all I can do on the stage of life, who sits in the front row and applauds? Who sits in the back in the shadows by the door so they can sneak out if the show gets too boring? Who sits by the soundbooth, notepad in hand, scribbling out criticisms to rehash at a later date? My life is a performance for anyone who cares to watch. I star in my own show. Who is my audience?
All you want is an audience. Someone, something to hear the echo of your voice as it reverberates without meaning into the vast space between one ear and the other. You just want someone to listen to your endless babble. Even though no matter what or who hears you speak, it’ll never give you the validity you wish for.
i feel i’m walking through a crowd
applauding each other all the time.
everyone’s a performer now,
and everyone would rather speak than love.
forget me, forget me, you will one day, all the same.
i’ll be as erased from the memory of your flesh
as the plow disregards the grain.
you don’t need an audience
you can clap enough for yourself.
i’m just here lest the sunrise comes
and leaves me all alone.
i step onto the stage. the lights beat down on me and the music starts. my hands shake a little as i step into the spot light, and begin to sing. i belt, i cry, i smile and finally end the song with a hIGH c and the crowd erupts into applause; my night is made.
audience of one. people watching. scared, can’t breathe. unsuspecting, blind audiences everywhere. performing on stage, staring blankly out into equally blank faces. music. the audience goes dark and its just me. they all go away and in the end, its just me. alone. in an empty room. they don’t matter until the song is done, until we unplug our cables, put down our instruments, and look for our proud moms and dads and friends and even strangers, standing blindly in the audience.
The audience was full of people with big eyes. I took a deep breath and queued my pianist. As the first sound arose from my instrument, my bow gliding gently across the strings everyones eyes grew wider. This is what I love.
I really hate being watched by an audience. Is it only me, or anyone else gets all red an sweaty when being in front of one? I would rather be part of one, if given the choice.
i hate talking to an audience. i just cannot imagine speaking with a group of more than 10 people. it scares the hell out of me. but i love being in the audience. the feeling of being in control. you not there to be in a spot. you are part of a crowd. its just more comforting
People who watch with their eyes open. people who listen with their ears. people who sit back and watch or listen to what is being played or producted. they may experience: love, hate, anger, they may laugh or cry. audience: Random people with an opinion!
They sat all in a row. Side by side. Waiting for impending doom. SHOT!
They all fall down.
the audience waits patiently for the show to begin. The are coughing and sorting their belongings, hands twitch nervously in laps. As more people arrive necks begin to crane backwards to see if the doors have been shut. Disgruntled people jump up to allow latecomers to take their seats.
people that hear or watch. Admirable, their job is. Who would listen to us if they didnt exist? We should be grateful of audiences.
The audience is what you live for and what you die for. It’s all about them. You are nothing but a prop for their amusement, but nothing can fulfill you quite like captivating them. They should be everything to you when you’re up there, or you’re doing something wrong. Because even though they own you, the greatest pleasure comes from you having them in the palm of your hand.
It’s as if they don’t see me anymore. The white paste has enveloped my face and like a mime my voice is nonexistent. I’m nothing more than a blur in the background to an audience of sleep heavy pairs of eyes. I couldn’t even get the lead in this mock life, instead I’m nothing more than an extra.
theres a stage a single shadow of a young man stands on the empty floor his white tie screams with the sins of a thousand holy men like doves they fly into the curtians and swarm the stage the man looks out a million white eyes. they dont blink. he doesnt say a word. Suddenly the theatre catches on fire and in the back of her mind she knows it isn’t real but the fire gets hotter and the show isnt over but you’ve got to relax its just part of the act and in the end we will wait till the audience can clap.
the audience is waiting for the show to start, but the performers arent ready to start the show. The audience gets upset and starts to throw beverages at the stage, the staff clean it up and finally the show starts. the show was a complete failure, and the audience scram at the performers.
i love audiences. I love being in front of audiences. knowing that everyone is expecting you to play something and you are the attention? its awesome. I feed off of it. during drumline, it literally was an adrenaline high. the minute that i saw the people i got this feeling like nothing else. like i could do anything. that was the happiest time of my life, ever.
Silent. Pause. Questioning looks. Dark. What’s going on? Was that a scream? Confusion. Panic. RUN. RUN. RUN. Get out. Get out. Danger.
stand up in front of the crowd and quiver, every eye is heavy with judgment. surely they all think of failure and the thoughts permeate each mind until by some telepathic osmosis they reach your mind, and cripple it indefinitely. how is it done? how does anyone continue in a world like this?
And then the audience heard ME clap. I was clapping for them, and they were confused. But why? Because they were people, and every person is unique. That is why the world spins round. They needed to know that, they needed to love themselves and others like them. That’s why.
the audience was clapping loudly. they couldn’t be as happy. The only thing they could remember as awesome as this was sliced bread. it’s amazing what it was
they watch you. you picture them naked but it doesnt help. if you make them laugh, you feel validated. if they cry, you similarly feel valid, but also empowered. they are your playthings. you have control. you can change their entire day for better or worse. the worst you can do is be a bore-which would be worse than falling on your face–because at least then they’d get a chuckle out of the experience.
The audience sat in wonder. How did it happen? How did he do it? Magic? Supernatural powers? Was he a god? They all wonder, but I know. He generally pulls the rabbit out of a compartment made into the hat. Simple. But for fourth graders the best the trick in the world. Me? Who am I you ask? Don’t tell anyone that I’m a fifth grader.
While at the play the audience loved the part where the girls all pretended they were the “popular girls” and then ran to sing a song, fell on the ground, and then all of the jocks over ruled them but running as if they were on the football field.
there are many people in an audience and they all expect a show. the show could be many things but the audience is what makes it worth performing. the audience is the show.
The audience stared me down as I returned the favor. The silence began to deafen each and every one of us. My hands were sweaty as I reached for the microphone. The tension was so thick you could cut through the air with a knife.
Haha, this is great for me. I love to perform. I love to be in front of an audience. I think performing is where I want to be for the rest of my life. LAAAAAALAAAALAAAA!
okay, so… cheesecake?
yum.
the audience was unforgiving and made up of cold hard stares. it was like every experience i had ever had with these critics: they watch your every move and try to pick apart everything you spend so long trying to build.
a GROUP OF PEOPLE SITTING AND PAYING ATTENTION
i was on stage and all i can image is the audience. Thinking about my every move and i get stiff, scared, i freeze. All i can do is stutter but i know its my time to shine. To get everything out. They came here to see me. All of a sudden i hear the applause. Can it be already over of did i choke?
The audience. A collective. A mob. A hive of minds with different flavors, all bent towards one purpose: listening/watching/enjoying/mocking you. Yes, you. If you were to look out over the audience, you may see a bunch of individuals, with individual pairs of eyes
She looked out at the audience and suddenly froze up, unable to continue speaking. The boys in the back of the school auditorium were holding up fingers, counting her “ums” and snickering to each other. “Oh my goodness why is this happening to me this should not be happening to me and why am I talking so fast and why do I keep stuttering and why am I sweating so much?” she thought.
they are watching, staring, like there is something wrong. I walk to the edge of the stage. They are looking past me, through me, almost
Then I turn.
I notice something
I am in front of a mirror.
And I am not visible.
They are captivated with themselves.
Audiences are always fun. They can be happy, sad, angry, nice, mean, jubilant, curious, excited, humorless, funny, loud, silent, pensive. But they always love a good joke.
Silence.
There’s no motion in the room. Is applause the norm, we think to ourselves. Yet we’re in the silent situation.
I can feel them working their way through my bloodstream as my face gets harder to move and my body begins to feel heavier and yet lighter at the same time. I can’t form a single coherent thought as the bass is pounding through the floor and my ears are ringing. Here I am jumping to the music in the audience and yet I can’t feel myself there, I am floating above all of it, watching as the crowd shifts and the people rage.