I'm Julio, Goddamnit!

Hello there. For those of you who don't already know, I'm Julio. Much like Jesus, I am an illegal Mexican immigrant. My name contains five letters and begins with the letter "J" . There is where our similarities end (oh, and we both like buttsecks). Much UN-like Jesus, however, my home is made out of wood and drywall, not cardboard. I also sell t-shirts online, but that's ONLY because the court ordered me to 500 hours of community service.

500 hours of picking up cans off the side of the road, however, is not the way Julio "services" the community. So in addition to giving hand jobs at a local massage parlor, I also sell t-shirts online to support the homeless...and as an added bonus, each shirt comes with a FREE handjob (find me on Craigslist username freehandjob 2333 [freehandjob 1-2332 were taken])!

create & buy custom products at Zazzle

For MORE of my homeless exploits, you can find them at www.projectjulio.blogspot.com OR just visit these hobo-related links:

http://projectjulio.blogspot.com/2009/07/hobo-chic-and-accidental-sexiness.html

http://projectjulio.blogspot.com/2009/07/hobosapien-or-congratulations-youre.html

http://projectjulio.blogspot.com/2009/06/hoblogging-or-twittering-without-nest.html

Poetry written on the sidewalk with dried animal feces

the Travelling Poet

I can't afford chalk, so don't balk

at using a thesaurus

rex, king of synonyms and creator of

faux poetry, symmetry without humility,

think you're the best poet, you know it, everyone

pretends to know it, and I know

that you're a hack in an Ivy League wrapper

and everyone knows that wrappers are meant to be

thrown away.

fin.

Pooetry

Ingredients:

1. water

2. newspaper

3. poo

4. a good idea

4a. preferebly an idea with greater substance and meaning than a goddamn flowery meadow.

4b. preferebly something with a social or philosophical impact, like homelessness for instance, as opposed to some melodrama about a dying relative or some tragic isolated event. How about: a homeless man of color dying from cancer that they got from Agent Orange while serving in the Army during the Vietnam War - how's that for impact?

5. Pre-poem regarding the content of the current poem's outline:

Remember that Chronic issues, long-term problems and future tragedies

are often overlooked
and ignored.

Leave accidents, catastrophes and despicable criminal

acts to the local

news.

more after this commercial break

My To-Do-List

Hi there.

So not eating for 8 days is totally rejuvenating....
and I've learned that sticking stuff up your bum can make you feel good!

Such as cups of coffee, peppermint tea, warm water, cold water -- puddle water from the street or alley way, wheat grass juice...

YOU name it.

My friend told me a great story about a well known DJ who likes to put other things up HIS bum.

Shampoo bottles, barbie dolls..yep, you name it.

So...must put that on the ‘list of things to do.’

Other things to do when finished juice fasting with enemas:

1) eat

2) maintain short term sobriety

3) finish nursery rhymes album (no wonder I'm homeless!)

4) learn to surf (couches)

5) learn about Hemingway and Havana

6) learn more about female ejaculation

7) give ten dollars a day to the homeless (I’m saving up for a house for myself...selfish!)

8) make a video blog

9) mani pedi

10) buy a house (see #7)

11) lick something salty

12) make more money to buy a house (panhandling) (see #7 and #10)

13) eat 80% raw or fresh meat as opposed to 100% rotten meat

14) kiss a girl/boy for the first time ever!

15) wink at an old old man (maybe he'll be rich!)

16) wear no undies (shucks, I do that anyway)

17) fart near a celebrity

18) fart on a celebrity

19) teach my dog Mandarin Chinese (imagine the price of tickets to see that?!)

20) hug a tree and then continue to put some other stuff up my bum.

There ya have it...hope to get it done before winter!

Home is where the heart is; in my case, that's the corner of 16th ave.

I didn't ask to be homeless...

okay, so maybe selling pot

to high school kids

with diseases and

who were mentally handicapped

wasn't the best idea. AND

she said she was 18. And maybe I shouldn't have brought

a credit card with me to Vegas. Or to Atlantic City. Or

talked to that loan shark

with the eye patch and

the missing teeth and

4-fingers on each hand,

of which he had one.

What was I thinking...

when I dropped out of High School, and then

community college, and then

regular college.

That drug conviction prevented me from

getting federal school loans. The gambling prevented me from

getting regular loans. And the girl...well, let's just say that I'm not

sorry, nor am I not

allowed within 500 feet of a school, park or

her house or

her parent's house or

my parent's house

.

fin

Ladies and Fentlemen, Jesus has left the building...

...or rather, I've left the two shopping carts and plastic covering that I refer to as my "building" and have entered an actual building known as a "public library." So in reality, I, Jesus, have "entered" the building, not "left" as I previously stated...though I will be leaving soon since the workers here leer at me with disgust and dismay.

It isn't my fault that public libraries are "public," i.e., "free" for anyone. Though since I don't have an address they might say that I don't qualify for the residency requirements for the library, but there is a community P.O. Box at the shelter that allows us to apply for jobs and other activities and services that require a valid address. Beforehand, I would just use the library's address, because let's be honest, who uses "mail" these days anyway. Even Obama said recently that "Fed-Ex and UPS...they're doing great. It's the Post Office that's always having problems."

Thank God there's a T.V. at the shelter, or else I'd have to go back to stealing newspapers and evesdropping on conversations, which you can imagine is difficult for a homeless person due to our distinct characteristics that include (but are not limited to): offensive odor; dirty and/or tattered clothing; basket of misc. seemingly useless objects parked outside of said library; tendency to talk loudly to oneself and/or others.