Synectics - 04/08/2010

[RoughWriters]

In this exercise, we each wrote for an alloted tiome to describe a theater, and then once that was finished, we wrote up all of the descriptors we had used in a big list and combined them into new and strange combinations. We then voted on which three of the combinations we would use in a new story describing a theater.

[scott]

1st Story:

The room was dark and beige, thirty feet wide and one hundred feet long. A long hallway protruded into the
The mighty tower hung shining in the night sky. Advertisements for movies and beverages gleamed in the pale reflection of the moonlight. A large window had two small circular holes in it where two people sat, eagerly waiting. The speckle adobe walls had long since faded from new form and cracks had formed in the edging. The gray pavement was decorated with vomit and the leavings of gum and rappers. A single glass door hung immobile in its place and a stout ticket teller waited there, emotionlessly.
Velvet carpet decorated the inside and tiny stars were inlaid into the fabric. A food stand sat full of popcorn and candy, drinks and Dippin Dots. The glass counters displayed the wares they sold, tempting the sweet tooth. The walls were laden with posters for upcoming films and each seemed more colorful than the last. Blood dripped across the poster of a horror film. An arcade was tucked away in the corner. Its repertoire consisted of 3 well used machines. Two of them were classics, Pacman and Tetris. The other was a first person shooter called “Or Else What?” The vast vaulted ceilings were unremarkable, dusty and long forgotten, too high to hang anything. Cobwebs collected in the rafters.

Vaulted Carpet
Brilliant Cold
Peaceful Horror

Second Story:

I walked silently into the undulating halls of the movie theater that flowed with vaulted carpet. The ticket stands stood all but fifty empty, the line backed into the brilliant cold night. The movie I wished to see would never be shown, yet I came. This job offered little return on the harsh conditions, the screaming babies, and the wails of frightened teenagers clinging to their estranged gun-wed spouses. A peaceful horror settled upon me as a family that starved for food walked to the ticket counter, social security check in hand. The children that clung to their father looked at me. I sensed that the movie would be the highlight of his life, a time of respite from horror and a chance to sleep in the frigid amphitheaters.
Bambi 3: Return to Brooklyn was concluding loudly in the background as I scooped up the remains of a half chewed plate of nachos. The endless sequel bored me, and as I left that night, the small emaciated eyes of the children watched me toss the nachos into the garbage with a distasteful sneer.

[michaelangelo]

first story-
This theater was named Hollywood Movies. The box office was in between two doors that could be used for entering or exiting the theater. Upon entering the theater, one would see a high roof and neon lights in the lobby area of the theater. The carpet was decorated with a confetti style of print and the walls were painted a deep red. There was a little arcade section to the immediate left once you walked inside the building. To the immediate right, was advertisement of the new movies that were to be released. Also in the theater lobby, there was a concession stand that sold a variety of junk food snacks and the food that could send your sugar and cholesterol levels sky high.
This theater had different hallways leading to various theaters. Theaters 1-5 were on the left. Just further down that hallway were theaters 6-10. In theaters section 6-10 there was a dining area and restrooms. The same layout was to the right side of the theater. Each theater room was equipped with recliner seats that allowed you to raise the arm rest if need be. The theater had a sporting arena feel to it because of how the chairs seemed to rise upon each other, even though the area was spacious.

[michaelangelo]

second story
This theater was named Hollywood Movies, kind of an oxymoron if you ask me. When I walked through the front doors if this supposed grand theater, I was not experiencing the shock and ooo lala feeling that all my co workers and peers were telling me about. Instead I had to tell myself that the vaulted carpet was ok and could still be considered nice even though theater decorum has changed over the years.
As I was headed to the theater that my movie “Peaceful Horror” would be shown, I could not get over the fact that the owner of this overrated establishment was capable of cooling this entire building with Ice boxes all around this building. I told myself, “despite the out dated carpet and boring scenery, this is a neat way to cool a building.” I dubbed this invention the brilliant cold.

[glen]

FIRST STORY
No one knew when the old theater first opened. Until the night that it burned down, the large hall was always known for its red velvet curtains, vaulted ceiling, gold inlayed pillars and thick rich carpet. It reeked of an earlier time; a simpler, yet lavish time.
I had always gone to the matinee in the old place. The projectionist there was a friend of mine, and tended to turn a blind eye when my best friend Kelly and I hid in the dark back row as the credits rolled. We would wait until people began filing in again, then join them for another round of Indiana Jones, Bugs Bunny or whatever slushy romance film we had to suffer through. And we did suffer through them. Growing up in that neighborhood, we knew that the theater was the safest place to be on a Saturday afternoon.
The Bronx brownstone building backed up to an alleyway that reeked of cat urine and rotting garbage. Paying customers came in the main entrance, but we knew that it was a lot more fun to fix the exit to the alley so that it wouldn’t latch, and get in for free. Kelly was my friend. She was a girl, and others called her my girlfriend, but we never used that term. We were close—as close as any two friends could be—but we never kissed or held hands. And we definitely didn’t want others thinking that we did.
I remember one summer’s afternoon when we snuck into the theater and behind the musty curtain. We had come a little early, and the movie was too bright for us to be able to sneak into the main auditorium. And so we waited near the exit, counting the moments until the final credits rolled and we could make our way back into the theater. The trick is, you see, to walk backwards upstream as people exited. It looked like you were exiting as you slowly moonwalked into the building.
But Kelly and I stood in the darkness, facing each other, waiting. We were in eighth grade. My parents had told me that I would be going elsewhere for high school, and we both knew that soon we would be apart for the first time in our short childhood lives. I guess I was thinking along those lines as I stood facing her, my face an inch from hers. I looked at her and suddenly realized that she was growing up, as I knew I was. And I had a sudden urge to kiss her.
Just as suddenly the credits began to roll, and I hesitated. She looked into my eyes and got embarrassed.

SECOND STORY
The biggest theater I have ever been in is in San Francisco. It was the old Malcolm Bainbridge Theater in Van Ness Street. It had opened in the 1930s and closed the winter that my mother died.
Even in her later years, Mom loved to go to that theater. I would drive her up 101 to San Francisco, usually for her birthday. She would start getting ready for it hours before we had to leave. That was before the time when you could order your tickets online. I usually went by the night before and bought them so we would be sure to get in with no problems.
As Mom’s health failed her, the event became more and more of a special occasion. I’ll never forget the last time I took her there. Her birthday fell in December. It was a brilliant cold night, with stars shining like beacons in the sky even visible through the lights of Van Ness. I pulled the car up to the valet parking area and ran around to help her out of the car, pushing the eager attendant out of the way.
Mom was decked out in her favorite rabbit hair coat, her pale skin lit up by the smile on her face and in her eyes. I looked at her, happy that she was happy. Somehow I knew that my days with her were few; the cancer that ate away at her was a peaceful horror yet to be revealed for what it truly was.
She hugged my arm as we went to the neon-lit entrance and I handed the ticket taker our paper passports to that fantasy land. I don’t think either she or I were even aware of the familiar details of that vaulted carpet or red sashed room. She and I were in love, and even though we knew that the unwanted and uninvited stranger called Death stood behind the curtain, we reveled in the night.
We had each other, and we had the theater. We couldn’t ask for any more.

[Sarah]

First Story

The red, velvet chairs with movable armrests stand out in the dark theater. The chairs are soft and plush, lined with black plastic, only the seat covering and back contain the red, plush velvet. The room houses the carpeted walls of black with the twinkling stars sparkling from it. The floor is also carpet, but is a deep red, like the color of blood, it contains the same twinkling stars. The ceiling is black and white and looks like a chess board. The lights peek out around each square like the chess pieces. The chairs start at floor level and rise higher and higher until they back up against the AV box. The one small window from the box allows the person running the AV equipment to see if there are problems, but is small, and cramped. The screen stretches from wall to wall and from eye level to ceiling in the front of the room, like a blackboard stretching across a classroom. The smell of popcorn lingers in the air. The arm rails, leading up towards the top most chairs is black, and cold; it’s made of metal. The popcorn dropped in laughter or fright crunches underfoot. The drinks spilled in rage, sadness, or joy drip down the carpeted steps. It is quiet, and peaceful when empty.


Second Story

The theater loomed in the darkness. Pillars lined every entrance. Upon entrance the carpet spanned in several directions. The black, vaulted carpet shimmered in the light. Three hallways , three different ways to go. I didn’t know which to go to, until my ticket was taken and I was pointed to the hallway on the right. The walls were tinged blue from the brilliant cold. It was brighter than most colds. I entered the room. The screen loomed out in front of me. We had entered from the top, the seats zooming down towards the ground floor. It was like being in a concert hall. The beauty of the room was like 10,000 suns shining brightly at noon-day. The pink dancing hearts that lined the walls and floor and even the ceiling filled me will peaceful horror. A loud boom sounded in the air, bells clanged, the air roared, dust spilled into my vision, and then . . . all was quiet. The peace serenity, it was all over. I glanced at my boyfriend next to me. His face was frozen in shock. The walls, floor, and ceiling had changed to a vast, deep cavern of hopelessness. Blackness filled the room, engulfing it in sorrow. The film was over. We got up to leave this place of depression and anger, but not before the cold, so intelligent in its maneuverings, hit us. We welcomed the deep blackness it gave us, and then . . . all was quiet.

[Edward Cheever]

First Story -

The theatre was already dark by the time they walked in, popcorn in hand. The screen glowed with a brilliant pulsating light over the numerous furry mounds that were the heads of the audience. They sighed in relief when they saw an inane commercial playing; they hadn’t missed the movie. They snuck down the thin isles between the packed seats, desperately searching for an empty few. The audience harsh whispered and muttered grumbles haunted them as they made their way past the restless sea of people.

Their shoes crackled over spilled and buttered popcorn, and made nasty ripping noises as they walked through the partially dried remains of Coca Cola and Pepsi. Using the screen to light the way, they spotted a set of three empty seats near the front. At that distance the screen was monstrous, and no matter how good looking the actor or actress, when you were close enough to fit inside their digital nostril, you couldn’t find yourself at all pleased. Nevertheless, they were the only seats, so they took them.

The material covering the seats was ancient and worn, like a car seat from the sixties, and where it wasn’t worn it was rough, a little like hardened corduroy. They sat down carefully, not entirely sure that the rusty seats would hold to the floor. Thankfully they didn’t rock or teeter back and forth too much. At least it gave them a sort of artificial recliner, though they could already tell it would be trying on their legs to keep them from spilling forward by the end of the flick.

The man tried to set his extra-large cup in …

Second Story -

A sort of peaceful horror settled over Dennis as he walked into the theater. His surreal emotions were well matched to the surreal surroundings. The framework of the theater was built non unlike any normal theatre Dennis had ever seen, but the entirety of the interior was upside down. Tables and stools clung to the ceiling by their feet like metal bats. The ticket booth hung from the ceiling, as did the concession stand and the candy-filled counter. Popcorn bubbled out of the pan and fell upward, to rest in the bottom, or rather the top, of the machine.

He walked forward as if through sludge, compelled to do so by the same unnamed force that brought him here. He made his way past the podium where the guard would have stood, counting tickets, and into the singular massive screening room. He was hit by a brilliant cold blast of air conditioning as he looked around in a strange awe. It was built like a performance hall, but again, everything stood upside down. The wood-panels on the walls rose upwards and turned into carpet one foot from the ceiling, which then spread outward in all directions. Even the great dome in the center was vaulted carpet, and every inch was covered in plush chairs.