people who listen to you, people who want to hear what you have to say, or people that you want to share your thoughts, your vision, your talents with. people who you want to shove your ideas and values upon and not give a fuck about whether or not they will accept you. people who will always judge you no matter what you say or do. people who you don’t give two shits about when your on the road to success.
I looked out from the stage. The audience was staring at me with full attention. The sweet piano melodies began to play out. I felt the music in my bones and let it control my every movement.
Audiences are made up of people who love and people who hate. We fear the critics around us yet we yearn for advice. Audiences guide our decisions and our life. Without audiences there would be no opinion.
I have an audience of one. Just myself. Well, maybe my husband, at times. At least I can entertain myself pretty well. The internet helps. I laugh a lot. Laughing is good for the soul.
there is wa asdfadsfafd asdfjansdkf , fasdpf asdif asd. asjdofias d.a sdifaos dif. Said the audience. Their collective soul occupied the entire colosseum with breaths and voices inaudible and incoherent as the last. Drowning in sounds and dying with love.
Well, as I walk on stage the eyes are on me. The taunts may occur but i prepare for the unbearable. As soon as my voice encounters their ears, it’s their decision on what they think of me.
I sat in the audience, one of a sea of faces. I am the same as them all, we are all the same person, the same living body. We watch uncritically, we watch the world and we watch life happening, only watching and never doing. What is this I don’t know.
people shouting, excitement, laughter, enthusiasm, happiness, confusion, people coming together to watch the same thing, anticipation for the show, wide eyes attentive
they are there. they are encased in an ominous shadow, lurking somewhere just close enough to make my heart jump. from the stage they are hidden but they are there. and they rustle around and talk about me and i feel their presence though the lights blind me past seeing them. but they are there. and they are all thinking of me.
I was in the audience watching as everyone clapped and cheered. I wondered why I clapped when they clapped, why I blindly joined in when they cheered. Why did we all become one when we entered the auditorium?
I think the audience really makes the show. It is full of different people from different walks of life and they are going to give a true opinion on what they think of what they are seeing. They are they ones that you need to impress. They are the ones that you do your job for. They are the ones that pay you. They are the ones that get the feeling of your art that you are producing.
They sit there, silent, anticipating. I gulp. My throat is dry, my eyes are tearing up, and my hands are shaking. And there they sit, the sea of flesh, with a million eyes and a million ways to judge me. Staring, expecting, waiting for the show I’m about to provide.
Facing the audience, I realized the calmness was history. I felt lightheaded, flaying in thought. Now what? Just start talking. Too many umms; making me more self-conscious, more inept at this.
The audience rose to their feet as the performer finished a crowd favorite song. The roar that followed was deafening, they were so thrilled and excited, full of passion over their favorite artist. More cheers escaped them as the band came back for an encore. They could be a family once more.
There is an audience in the field, they watch as I go far away. And there will be no applaud, there will be no hands. They have no faces, just white, black. Grey, a fade out. And there isn’t one single person. No one will help, for they know only to be an audience in the field.
a hush fell over the audience as the tightrope walker started on his “walk”
shhhhhhhhhhhhh
they all day and no one is breathing for fear he may fall
shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Yes, I was in the audience watching an affair unravel on the street. You see the man was sure he’d snagged a woman’s undying loyalty for a hell of a bargain. He grasped all this right as she was walking out his door. Which is about the time I saw her being chased by him. His arguments could not sway her. All the comfort, security, and luxury would not stop her as she stood on the curb. As a silent observer, I cheered her on. Getting away from us all she stepped into a taxi. By the look on his face, you knew she was never to return.
the audience was the craziest bunch of weirdos she had ever seen. There was a tall skinny, bald-headed guy in a one-piece sparkly jumpsuit, an elderly woman with no teeth, a cranky mother with frizzed out hair holding
an audience is a group of people who do not care about what you do, they only care that you entertain them. whether you do it by comedy, violence, shock, or even wisdom, as long as they are happy and entertained, they do not care what you do or what happens to them. If they are happy, they will applaud you and even tell about how great you are, but if you do not entertain them then they will boo you and humiliate you until you do manage to do so.
I have an audience. Perhaps that’s not such a good idea, considering I have no idea what to write. I’m not afraid, though. I can get up on stage in front of people and it doesn’t bother me. I do, however, become self conscious when I am presenting a work of mine such as a piece of writing or art. Good thing I don’t have to do that often. I could, if I chose to, but nothing I write seems to be good enough lately. I’ve lost my enthusiasm for the most part. Freewriting is interesting, that you can start writing so much just about one word. Incredible. Maybe this will help out with my midterm. Audience. I will have no audience for this midterm but I will have my class as an audience for our project the month after. What a surprise. My father is watching an old soccer game. They certainly have an audience. I can’t wait until the Euro cup 2012. I suppose that if I wanted to write for an audience, I would have to motivate myself to write something that would prove interesting to people. Perhaps one day, if I have enough time and energy as I used to. I just wish I could finish my midterm this fast. My knitting website has an audience. Does it really? I have maybe one visitor a day. I should make more things then. Hats scarves anything. Once I’m done with all my work, I will go for that. I will increase my audience. And I will be a star.
scary, yet somehow fun. I love to have an audience yet don’t want to admitt that. without an audience there is no witness. no one to prove that you actually did what you have done. being part of an audience is like taking part in something special. a secret that you have been invited into. my favourite audience to be in is at gigs.
The audience roared its approval as the young performer made her way onstage, cloaked in the garments of striving for fame. She shouted her welcome, but it all was the same–she was headed somewhere, and this was the game. She just started playing, and the notes were so pure–day one of the very incredible tour. The crowd they did love her, and the story began–the story of Susan McGann.
the audience has a lot of fluids in their bodies. a round of applause from the audience. i like to be a part of an audience. i don’t know what i’m writing about. this is weird. i feel stupid. i’m not stupid though, i swear. somehow writing about the word audience turned into justifying my intelligence
in the end it did not matter who he was or who he was speaking to, only that they were there and that he was speaking. he did not have much to say. one foot lodged behind the other, scratching. a hand at an ear. the fall of hair into the eyes that itched horribly and uncontrollably when at any other time he would not notice it. his voice came out stuttering as if it was tripping over its own feet
i tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. i cleared my throat and listened to it echo in the room from the speakers, connected to the microphone in front of me. i looked out into the audience in front of me. sweat beaded on my forehead as i grew more nervous by the second. finally, i began: “no one can ever understand what it is like to be the bully or the bullied unless they have been put in that position.”
David was passionately enjoying this rare “out-of-body” experience, staring off into the immense sea of people when he finally noticed that he was not alone.
The audience is like food to me – nourishing my soul, my psych, my ego. I love them and I hope that they love me in return – but you know how that goes. The audience is like any other lover – ready to turn and walk.
The audience sat in anticipation of what would be their last show. Behind the curtain sat the draw. The thing that some had driven half way across a barren continent to see. Only the steady rhythmic breathing was audible behind the black lace curtain and the audience held theirs, as though afraid of taking the beast’s air.
i have an audience now. every one is watching me. so people just listen, i am your god. watch me. i am not watching you. you should watch me. i don’t care what you do..
There was an audience before him and he thought he would be nervous but as it turned out he was not and now he was talking very rapidly and with a smile on his face and he was so happy that he had not allowed himself to be frightened away by the stage but was now showing them all what he could do and how he could do it he was so strong and brave. There was an old woman in the first row who looked at him as if she knew and she smiled with one corner of her mouth as he spoke and when he joked, she did not laugh, but smiled again. He liked it better than a laugh. It felt more personal. The old man next to her left halfway through his speech and did not come back but it did not matter because she was there and he could smell her perfume, like musty roses.
the audience watched silently
they were all in a trance
she took off her mask
and began to dance
the show was over
the curtains closed
she walked off the stage
and put her mask back on
The audience waited for the show to continue…but the lights went out and there was silence.
people who listen to you, people who want to hear what you have to say, or people that you want to share your thoughts, your vision, your talents with. people who you want to shove your ideas and values upon and not give a fuck about whether or not they will accept you. people who will always judge you no matter what you say or do. people who you don’t give two shits about when your on the road to success.
I was then, when I saw her in that crowd that I knew the next song was going to be for her. So I played my first three chords of thunder.
I looked out from the stage. The audience was staring at me with full attention. The sweet piano melodies began to play out. I felt the music in my bones and let it control my every movement.
Audiences are made up of people who love and people who hate. We fear the critics around us yet we yearn for advice. Audiences guide our decisions and our life. Without audiences there would be no opinion.
I have an audience of one. Just myself. Well, maybe my husband, at times. At least I can entertain myself pretty well. The internet helps. I laugh a lot. Laughing is good for the soul.
there is wa asdfadsfafd asdfjansdkf , fasdpf asdif asd. asjdofias d.a sdifaos dif. Said the audience. Their collective soul occupied the entire colosseum with breaths and voices inaudible and incoherent as the last. Drowning in sounds and dying with love.
Everyday my audience changes. Everywhere I go I have a new audience. At the store, at school, at work. But no matter where I am I can lead by example.
Well, as I walk on stage the eyes are on me. The taunts may occur but i prepare for the unbearable. As soon as my voice encounters their ears, it’s their decision on what they think of me.
I sat in the audience, one of a sea of faces. I am the same as them all, we are all the same person, the same living body. We watch uncritically, we watch the world and we watch life happening, only watching and never doing. What is this I don’t know.
people shouting, excitement, laughter, enthusiasm, happiness, confusion, people coming together to watch the same thing, anticipation for the show, wide eyes attentive
they are there. they are encased in an ominous shadow, lurking somewhere just close enough to make my heart jump. from the stage they are hidden but they are there. and they rustle around and talk about me and i feel their presence though the lights blind me past seeing them. but they are there. and they are all thinking of me.
audience! audience ah don’t know what to say!! ><!!!
audience chance france balance ….
I was in the audience watching as everyone clapped and cheered. I wondered why I clapped when they clapped, why I blindly joined in when they cheered. Why did we all become one when we entered the auditorium?
I think the audience really makes the show. It is full of different people from different walks of life and they are going to give a true opinion on what they think of what they are seeing. They are they ones that you need to impress. They are the ones that you do your job for. They are the ones that pay you. They are the ones that get the feeling of your art that you are producing.
They sit there, silent, anticipating. I gulp. My throat is dry, my eyes are tearing up, and my hands are shaking. And there they sit, the sea of flesh, with a million eyes and a million ways to judge me. Staring, expecting, waiting for the show I’m about to provide.
Facing the audience, I realized the calmness was history. I felt lightheaded, flaying in thought. Now what? Just start talking. Too many umms; making me more self-conscious, more inept at this.
The audience rose to their feet as the performer finished a crowd favorite song. The roar that followed was deafening, they were so thrilled and excited, full of passion over their favorite artist. More cheers escaped them as the band came back for an encore. They could be a family once more.
There is an audience in the field, they watch as I go far away. And there will be no applaud, there will be no hands. They have no faces, just white, black. Grey, a fade out. And there isn’t one single person. No one will help, for they know only to be an audience in the field.
a hush fell over the audience as the tightrope walker started on his “walk”
shhhhhhhhhhhhh
they all day and no one is breathing for fear he may fall
shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Money can’t buy love.
Yes, I was in the audience watching an affair unravel on the street. You see the man was sure he’d snagged a woman’s undying loyalty for a hell of a bargain. He grasped all this right as she was walking out his door. Which is about the time I saw her being chased by him. His arguments could not sway her. All the comfort, security, and luxury would not stop her as she stood on the curb. As a silent observer, I cheered her on. Getting away from us all she stepped into a taxi. By the look on his face, you knew she was never to return.
A crowd. So hard to fit in. So hard to stand out. A vicious circle. A horrid paradox which traps humanity in it’s grasp. Or maybe just teens.
the audience was the craziest bunch of weirdos she had ever seen. There was a tall skinny, bald-headed guy in a one-piece sparkly jumpsuit, an elderly woman with no teeth, a cranky mother with frizzed out hair holding
In the end, I am the only audience of my work that really matters.
an audience is a group of people who do not care about what you do, they only care that you entertain them. whether you do it by comedy, violence, shock, or even wisdom, as long as they are happy and entertained, they do not care what you do or what happens to them. If they are happy, they will applaud you and even tell about how great you are, but if you do not entertain them then they will boo you and humiliate you until you do manage to do so.
I have an audience. Perhaps that’s not such a good idea, considering I have no idea what to write. I’m not afraid, though. I can get up on stage in front of people and it doesn’t bother me. I do, however, become self conscious when I am presenting a work of mine such as a piece of writing or art. Good thing I don’t have to do that often. I could, if I chose to, but nothing I write seems to be good enough lately. I’ve lost my enthusiasm for the most part. Freewriting is interesting, that you can start writing so much just about one word. Incredible. Maybe this will help out with my midterm. Audience. I will have no audience for this midterm but I will have my class as an audience for our project the month after. What a surprise. My father is watching an old soccer game. They certainly have an audience. I can’t wait until the Euro cup 2012. I suppose that if I wanted to write for an audience, I would have to motivate myself to write something that would prove interesting to people. Perhaps one day, if I have enough time and energy as I used to. I just wish I could finish my midterm this fast. My knitting website has an audience. Does it really? I have maybe one visitor a day. I should make more things then. Hats scarves anything. Once I’m done with all my work, I will go for that. I will increase my audience. And I will be a star.
scary, yet somehow fun. I love to have an audience yet don’t want to admitt that. without an audience there is no witness. no one to prove that you actually did what you have done. being part of an audience is like taking part in something special. a secret that you have been invited into. my favourite audience to be in is at gigs.
The audience was large. I looked before me at all of the motley faces. I suddenly forgot my lines. I didn’t know what to do.
The audience roared its approval as the young performer made her way onstage, cloaked in the garments of striving for fame. She shouted her welcome, but it all was the same–she was headed somewhere, and this was the game. She just started playing, and the notes were so pure–day one of the very incredible tour. The crowd they did love her, and the story began–the story of Susan McGann.
the audience has a lot of fluids in their bodies. a round of applause from the audience. i like to be a part of an audience. i don’t know what i’m writing about. this is weird. i feel stupid. i’m not stupid though, i swear. somehow writing about the word audience turned into justifying my intelligence
in the end it did not matter who he was or who he was speaking to, only that they were there and that he was speaking. he did not have much to say. one foot lodged behind the other, scratching. a hand at an ear. the fall of hair into the eyes that itched horribly and uncontrollably when at any other time he would not notice it. his voice came out stuttering as if it was tripping over its own feet
i tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. i cleared my throat and listened to it echo in the room from the speakers, connected to the microphone in front of me. i looked out into the audience in front of me. sweat beaded on my forehead as i grew more nervous by the second. finally, i began: “no one can ever understand what it is like to be the bully or the bullied unless they have been put in that position.”
David was passionately enjoying this rare “out-of-body” experience, staring off into the immense sea of people when he finally noticed that he was not alone.
“My Lord, my audience.”
You were my audience. I sold myself to you. I acted.
Now we are one and the same, and it tortures me that I ever spoke to you as if you were Other.
The audience is like food to me – nourishing my soul, my psych, my ego. I love them and I hope that they love me in return – but you know how that goes. The audience is like any other lover – ready to turn and walk.
The audience sat in anticipation of what would be their last show. Behind the curtain sat the draw. The thing that some had driven half way across a barren continent to see. Only the steady rhythmic breathing was audible behind the black lace curtain and the audience held theirs, as though afraid of taking the beast’s air.
i have an audience now. every one is watching me. so people just listen, i am your god. watch me. i am not watching you. you should watch me. i don’t care what you do..
There was an audience before him and he thought he would be nervous but as it turned out he was not and now he was talking very rapidly and with a smile on his face and he was so happy that he had not allowed himself to be frightened away by the stage but was now showing them all what he could do and how he could do it he was so strong and brave. There was an old woman in the first row who looked at him as if she knew and she smiled with one corner of her mouth as he spoke and when he joked, she did not laugh, but smiled again. He liked it better than a laugh. It felt more personal. The old man next to her left halfway through his speech and did not come back but it did not matter because she was there and he could smell her perfume, like musty roses.
the audience watched silently
they were all in a trance
she took off her mask
and began to dance
the show was over
the curtains closed
she walked off the stage
and put her mask back on
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