The start and finish lines are never completely clear. When you step up to the start you only see an endless journey ahead of you. And when you think the finish is fast upon you, its not. Heartache can quickly cloud your mind. The only control you have is to continue no matter what. God Speed.
One for the money.
Two for the show.
Three to get ready.
Four lets talk about this. Four for what are we really getting ready to get our selves into here. Is this a good idea? Will there be tears of joy? Could innocent little kittens be left stranded in the streets? Really should this go on without any warning to the viewer? Maybe we should just take four minutes to think about this….
Rolling down the street pimpin’ them clown hoes for a twisted $3 dolla’ bill. Than PoPs showed up and slapped me straight back to tuesday of last week. I forgot you don’t be messin’ with PoPs! Sorry PoPs !
The gentle wind blows so softly over the timbers and you can barely feel it. You wish for just a little relief but none, only the heat of the day. The sun blazes down 23 out of the 24 hours. 130 degrees and we celebrate with the comfort of knowing that it will be bearable today. But, tomorrow who knows it could be hot again. Little glimmers of hope dance in the minds of the aimless wanderers. One day… one day…
Really, let me help you. No really, let me help you. Really, no joke, let me help you.
24″x24″ Canvas
Xerography w/Original Photography
2009
Created for the art show: Pre Existing Condition
So, this one time at the grocery store I was picking out some nice juicy firm melons when out of the blue I heard someone screaming my name. As I proceeded to give myself whiplash to see who was about to come over for some silly non-meaningful blab, I was like “Oh hello Julie Childs. What’s new with you?” and my mind quickly drifted off to happy times in the kitchen.
Slipping slowly into the cool sparkling water’s of yesteryear the thoughts exploded with wonderment as to when? why? where? And without warning the answers came in buckets. One after another until there was no room left in my mind to hold a single drop. The tears started to gently roll down, one by one like tiny little soldiers marching to war.
One should only be lucky to know in the end that the last words that roll from their lips is… no regrets.
One doorbell. Two doorbells. Three doorbells. Doorbells turned into a few thousand in a blink of an eye. It is an honest way of making a buck if one can only get past a few little innocent white lies. But in the end we help those that can’t help themselves…. so, I keep telling myself. Ding Dong.
Kicking it old school waiting for that short yellow ride to get here when you strolled up with a look of discontent on your face that could peel the paint from a wall. What? WHAT?
Follow the clown