1. So it's the end of an era. A decade, anyway. I will turn 57 years old this April 2. That's a milestone unto itself. It feels strange, especially since I was just getting accustomed to turning 50. Now I'm staring down 60. The years are flying by, like my life is passing before my eyes before I have a chance to realize my own potential. (Plus it's "the Twenties." Again already.) Since 2010 I've been working hard to make up for lost time from my fiction writing (wasted while busy hosting/programming/promoting my cult movie cabaret Thrillville Theater, though it wasn't really a waste, more like a fruitful if frustrating detour), writing and publishing over a dozen books and numerous short stories featured in various anthologies since 2010. For rather convoluted but seeming inevitable reasons I founded my own imprint, Thrillville Press, morphing my "brand name" from a roving cult movie cabaret to online headquarters for my own gonzo, existential pulp fiction.

    NOW AVAILABLE!




    Though prolific, frankly I've been dealing with a lot of depression since the sudden collapse of the long-simmering and nearly-realized movie deal dream with Christian Slater. My proactive response to this devastating turn of events was to relocate to my dream city, Seattle, and write, write, write. I sublimated all of my disappointment and sadness into my work, as I've always done. The results, speaking subjectively, are artistically rewarding it not commercially successful. I'm very, very proud of my body of work. Every book I've put out has felt like it would be my last, particularly Vic Valentine, Private Eye: 14 Vignettes, which felt like a summation of not only Vic's life, but my own. I felt like I'd said everything I needed to, and now I would be content living out the extended epilogue of a career I never actually achieved.  

    But then I was struck with renewed, unexpected inspiration, as usual.

    The reason I decided to put together this new collection was because not long ago I wrote a story called "Dismember Me" for a planned anthology of Tales from the Crypt inspired noir fiction. The editor who asked me to contribute decided to cancel or at least indefinitely delay his plans for the publication after I'd already submitted it, leaving it stranded in perpetual limbo. Since I was especially proud of it and wanted it out in the world, I once again decided to just Do It Myself. Of course, I would need to add some other stories to justify its publication, since I didn't want to just do an ebook standalone.

    Almost immediately after making this decision, I accidentally came across an evocative image in this old book called CAD: A Handbook for Heels, originally published in 1992, now long out of print. It served as my introduction to the "lounge lizard" lifestyle, and largely inspired my "Will the Thrill" persona, since it was the dirtier if smoother and more mature flipside of midcentury "cool" not represented or replicated in popular mainstream depictions of the era like American Graffiti or Happy Days. Beatniks, West Coast Jazz, pulp, booze, sex, etc. 

    Anyway, the image in question, which I'd never even remembered seeing before--though it had been a while since I'd leafed through these hallowed, influential pages--instantly conjured and captured exactly the tone, mood, feel, aesthetics and themes of what would then almost immediately after become VIHORROR! Cocktales of Sex and Death



    I'd actually coined the term "Vihorror" some time ago when trying to explain my work to someone. Since I've effectively created my own genre blending elements of noir, horror and eroticism, this seemed like a perfectly meta-way to describe it. I hadn't planned on making the term the title of one of my books since that seemed a bit too self-reflexive. But then I never plan any of my books. They just happen, essentially concocting and writing themselves. I just do what the Muse tells me, when she tells me. 



    The image that served as the creative deal-sealer seemed to be a knockoff of Salvador Dali, if not an original by the master himself. There was no photo credit, and an extensive, exhaustive Google image search turned up no information on the origins of the piece. So I felt free to commission my go-to cover artist/designer Dyer Wilk to tweak the image leaving most of it intact, but replacing some of it with my own signature iconography (a fez and a tiki). 

    An example of Dali's trademark mixture of surrealism and sensuality. 

    This is the original, untitled, unaccredited illustrated piece printed in CAD.

    And per my specific instructions, this is how Dyer reappropriated it for my own purposes:












    Here is the back cover blurb that sums up the dozen stories within, which are all loosely connected, featuring protagonists that remain anonymous for reasons revealed within. There's even an extended cameo or two by a certain private eye...

    SEX AND DEATH. The visceral impact of these simple words never fails to elicit a strong response in all peoples across every society and culture. Together these inevitable experiences constitute the core of the human condition, the essence of our shared existence, and yet they create conflict, chaos and confusion amongst us. The inherent fear and ignorance of our own corporeal realities results in religious oppression, tribalistic warfare, political scandal, corporate exploitation, and artistic censorship. 

    Not here.

    These titillating tales of erotic, existential terror are cinematic fever dreams in literary form, individually and collectively conveying the delirious desire that overwhelms our senses and the deep dread that undermines our spirits when confronted with the seemingly contradictory but essentially complementary twin fates of mating and mortality. There is only one entrance and one exit in this brief, beautiful, horrific cycle of precious, ephemeral Flesh. 



    Welcome to the uniquely stylized, conceptually uncompromising world of VIHORROR. 


    Here are some promo memes I've posted on social media, highlighting the
    macabre, erotic elements:












    Anyone familiar with my stuff can see that this collection is a companion piece to previous works like A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge (still my personal favorite), Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room, and perhaps my most artistically accomplished piece, Things I Do When I'm Awake. In any case, it's a distinct distillation of the main themes recurring throughout all of my books and stories, namely loneliness, lust and longing. 

    But since I never like to repeat myself, VIHORROR! Cocktales of Sex and Death is unlike anything I've written before, or will ever write again, especially since it might be my final published work before I just finally give up after forty years and resign myself to the quiet, peaceful life of an aging dog walker.

    Or maybe not. 

    Even if nothing else special happens to me this year, or any coming year, I'm still greatly looking forward to what will likely be one of the most memorable events of my entire existence: the 30th Anniversary Twin Peaks Convention being held at Graceland in Memphis, Tennessee - on my birthday weekend. As you know, it's my favorite show (in fact, The Return is both my favorite series and favorite movie of all time), and I'm a lifelong Elvis fan. This will be my first visit to Mecca. It feels made just for me. I'll take it!

    I started out the decade a 46 year old doorman at a tiki bar in Alameda CA. I’m ending it a 56 year old dog walker in Seattle. Not exactly upwardly mobile, other than geographically, but in between and I wrote and published over a dozen books and numerous short stories. Didn’t change the game, but I’ve never really been a player. It is what it is. No expectations, no resolutions, no aspirations for the coming year and decade. I’ve learned the hard way not to plan or hope for the future at the expense of the moment, which continually dissipates like moisture in the heat. Just going with the flow, making waves when possible, even if I never make a splash. Peace and cheers and TCB.


    Celebrating the book's release at the University of Washington Club
    with a customized cocktail, "The Sex and Death", 3/6/20
     




    This iconic poster by Rich Black seems timely given its hedonistic flapper aesthetic...
    Here's to the Roaring Twenties - but this time, with legal booze. Cheers!

    Gig Harbor, WA


    Fabio Frizzo performs his score for Lucio Fulci's The Beyond live at Fremont Abbey, 12/12/19








    In and around Port Angeles and Olympic National Park for Monica's birthday weekend,
    12/14-15/19


















    Gypsy jazz and cocktails at the Royal Room for
    the birthday girl, 12/15/19




    Swanky class joint Canlis



    Damn good vegan cherry pie and ice cream at Pie Bar in Ballard



    High tea for the holidays at my favorite spot on Earth,
    Salish Lodge (The Great Northern) and Snoqualmie Falls,
    or as I call it, Twin Peaks

    "The Dale Cooper"

    Accidentally found the location used for the Elks Lodge #9 in Twin Peaks: The Return,
    Smokey Joe's Tavern in Snoqualmie 

    Tiki cocktails at another of my favorite local places, North Shore Lagoon in Bothell





    CHEERS AND ALOHA FROM THRILLVILLE!


    VALENTINE'S DAY 2020:

    Vito's Restaurant, Seattle
     Hotel Sorrento:

    Noir City Seattle with Czar of Noir Eddie Muller


    Bachelor Pad Magazine #50 featuring my 50th movie column, now on sale!

    Bachelor Pad Magazine #51 now on sale!



    You may also dig:






    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017




    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 




    A WRONG TURN AT ALBUQUERQUE (1982) and THE IN-BETWEENERS (1987)






    PEOPLE BUG ME (2013)












    BOOKS:



    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!
    BUY


    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books




    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY
    THE "MENTAL CASE FILES":
    VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

     VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE LIZARD FOR HIRE
    BUY



    VIC VALENTINE: SPACE CADET
    BUY


    VIC VALENTINE, PRIVATE EYE: 14 VIGNETTES
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY





    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY
    VIHORROR! Cocktales of Sex and Death
    BUY
    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 




    SHORT STORIES:


     My sci-fi horror noir satire "Soft Opening" is included in this gonzo anthology from Coffin Hop Press.




    New Vic Valentine vignette "Living Proof" included in this charity anthology benefitting the North Texas Food Bank.



    DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE, an anthology dedicated to the late, great writer and stellar human being William E. Wallace, featuring many contemporary crime fiction stars plus a brand new Vic Valentine story, "Beat This," by yours truly. Proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in Bill's name. More info and purchase links here.


    My short story FISH OUT OF WATER 
    (my idea for a fourth Creature from the Black Lagoon movie)
    is included in this anthology
    Order hardcover, paperback and eBook from Amazon



    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 




    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!


    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 

    for which I also wrote the foreword:

    My short story BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology



  2. Beboppin' with Dmitri
    DIG THIS: Recently famous jazz cat Dmitri Matheny--who actually attended my Thrillville shows down in the Bay Area years ago, which I only found out when we finally hooked up in person here in Seattle--asked me if I'd be interested in reading a passage from my latest, Vic Valentine, Private Eye: 14 Vignettes, backed by his band at Seattle's legendary jazz joint, Tula's. Naturally, though I'm not crazy about performing in public anymore, I accepted, because what could be more appropriate than an ex-lounge lizard/pulp fiction writer reading his stuff aloud in a jazz club backed by a real jazz band? That is a classic Beat Generation situation, cats 'n' kittens, so I was all over it like Scotch on the rocks.

    Unfortunately, a couple of days later, I read the sad news that Tula's is closing after a quarter century run in Belltown, being replaced by condos or some redevelopment bullshit. I'm very sad but also proud to appear on that fabled stage. I actually set a scene there, with Dmitri and his band, in Vic Valentine: Lounge Lizard For Hire. I guess this was Dmitri's way of repaying the favor, not that I saw it that way. I just dig his music, and so does Vic.


    This gig of a lifetime took place on Wednesday, August 7, 2019. I hadn't been this excited about a live reading gig since Monica Tiki Goddess and I appeared with the San Francisco chapter of Naked Girls Reading back in 2011. I posted about this on my Facebook page just as I was heading out the door. Seconds later, I got a notice I'd been banned for 30 days--again--from posting for once again violating "community standards." At first I had no idea why, since the photos I posted were innocuous enough, just the event poster and a couple of shots of Monica and me on stage, wearing robes, me in my trademark fez, but then I noticed the ban was for simply linking in the comments section to the Naked Girls Reading website! Really?





    Facebook hates me. As of this writing, I can't even share this blog on Facebook anymore, since it's been erroneously flagged as "spam" and nobody responds to my online appeals. So if you want to share this blog, you'll have to do so on Twitter, same as me. It feels like an anti-Thrill conspiracy, man. But since Trump is my antithesis, makes sense the Powers That Be would be down on me. Society and I have never been tight, but it seems that gulf is only widening as I grow older. I just can't abide but these puritanical rules, man. The Prude Patrol just bugs me. I'm just not conservative in any way. If you are, fine, but censorship offends me the same way nipples offend Facebook

    I've been in Facebook jail many times before for committing the same "crime" against their "community," and no doubt will be again, since to me sex is biological, just pathological like violence, which this culture and social media generally not only tolerates scenes of violence, but glorifies it. Me, I'll take anything carnal over carnage anyway. 

    But fuck 'em. The show must go on...and Monica testifies that after a "Sinatra Sazerac" or two I rose to the occasion, inspired by the venue and the music. She took the photos and shot a brief video clip as evidence of the very special occasion, very special to me anyway.


    This is the coolest live reading I've done since I was surrounded by naked girls on a stage in San Francisco almost a decade ago...







    CHEERS!


    Monica starring in Two Big Black Bags at ACT Theater, Seattle, 8/9-8/11/19



      A TRIP TO TWIN PEAKS
    Fall City/Snoqualmie Falls WA, 9/7/19
     
     



     
      
     

     My 28th Elvis Christmas card!


    CHEERS!



    Bachelor Pad Magazine #49 featuring my 49th movie column, ghost/haunted house movies,
    now on sale!



    COMING EARLY 2020 FROM THRILLVILLE PRESS:




    You may also dig:








    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017




    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 


















    BOOKS:



    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!
    BUY


    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books




    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY
    THE "MENTAL CASE FILES":
    VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

     VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE LIZARD FOR HIRE
    BUY



    VIC VALENTINE: SPACE CADET
    BUY


    VIC VALENTINE, PRIVATE EYE: 14 VIGNETTES
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY





    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 


    SHORT STORIES:


     My sci-fi horror noir satire "Soft Opening" is included in this gonzo anthology from Coffin Hop Press.




    New Vic Valentine vignette "Living Proof" included in this charity anthology benefitting the North Texas Food Bank.



    DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE, an anthology dedicated to the late, great writer and stellar human being William E. Wallace, featuring many contemporary crime fiction stars plus a brand new Vic Valentine story, "Beat This," by yours truly. Proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in Bill's name. More info and purchase links here.


    My short story FISH OUT OF WATER 
    (my idea for a fourth Creature from the Black Lagoon movie)
    is included in this anthology
    Order hardcover, paperback and eBook from Amazon



    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 




    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!


    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 

    for which I also wrote the foreword:

    My short story BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology




  3. SEX. BLOOD. GORE. HORROR. AND LOTS OF TITS! These are the essential ingredients and main appeal of a certain type of film that has become known as "grindhouse," even though during the era of their actual flourishing (designated and christened retrospectively much like film noir), they were merely "exploitation" or "horror" movies. What sets these movies apart is their sheer fearlessness in terms of indulging the darkest corners of the human psyche, shamelessly pandering to the male (and sometimes female) libido while wallowing in the trashiest elements of our primal nature. Love 'em or hate 'em (often both simultaneously), they are memorable and significant for their naked honesty.

    Due to loosening censorship in a gradually more liberal culture, truly adventurous, boundary-pushing exploitation cinema exploded in the early 1960s, the fuse lit back in the 1930s with relatively tame but nudity-friendly "sex education" film roadshows and even mainstream Hollywood, pre-Code. But the term "grindhouse" owes awareness of its existence in mainstream consciousness largely due to the 2007 film Grindhouse by Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino (who earlier popularized "pulp fiction," inspiring a popular cinematic trend while revitalizing an entire "retro" industry spanning all media.) As much as I love that film and both Machete spinoffs, I've chosen not include them here, since they are more pastiches of the source material rather actual modernized but aesthetically authentic heirs, as opposed to the films of Rob Zombie, which do not cater to mass audiences in any way, shape or form, remaining true to the nihilistic, repulsive, and explicit nature of the originals. With few exceptions, like those made by Roger Corman's New World Pictures, these films never played in suburban malls. They all lived briefly then died in sleazy, seedy houses of piss, wine and semen on 42nd Street in Times Square, Market Street in San Francisco, and Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles. Most were never meant for mass consumption, catering instead to a select audience of misfits and malcontents. Later they were rediscovered and are now studied as historic artifacts and critically acclaimed by revisionists while playing hipster film festivals. The irony of this only proves my point: we all have these lustful, primal cravings and impulses in common. If nothing else, these films provide a relatively safe, healthy sublimation of these otherwise destructive tendencies and socially unacceptable tastes. 

    The following list is not meant to be comprehensive, merely representative. I've chosen films I thought best exemplified the unabashed debauchery, decadence, depravity, and degradation of Grindhouse Cinema as a whole, spanning its entire history, from its origins in the the "roughies" of the 1960s to "torture porn" of the 2000s and beyond. Essentially, these types of movies embody, embrace and embolden the basest instincts of our sad species, laying bare our deepest, most disgraceful and disgusting desires, vices, and moral hypocrisy in the process. In many cases, particularly in the New French Extreme trend earlier this century, this "genre" has been elevated to Art by force of vision, style, personal statement, and political context.

    But in the end, we're really here for the breasts, boobs, and blood. None of these films are recommended for even the slightly squeamish. If you're a politically correct prude, any one of them will make your head explode like that dude in Scanners. Everyone else will find this list to be an enlightening, entertaining, and edifying primer, abetted by a carnal cavalcade of lurid graphics, even if it results in multiple showers and bouts of severe self-loathing...



    WILL THE THRILL'S TOP 50 CLASSIC GRINDHOUSE FILMS


    BLOOD FEAST (1963)
    The first gore film. Herschell Gordon Lewis only did it to make money, not history. He did both. And he kept doing it with Two Thousand Maniacs, Color Me Blood Red, The Wizard of Gore, and The Gore-Gore Girls among many others. The first one remains the most influential, simply because it was first. Oddly, Gordon died the same day as my mother, a former beauty queen and actress turned homeless schizophrenic confined to a state ward (tragic story), on September 26, 2016--also in Florida. 


    BAD GIRLS GO TO HELL (1965) 
    Doris Wishman was a pioneer female indie director long before that became fashionable, doing it just as dirty as her male counterparts in the "roughie" sexploitation racket, like Joseph W. Mawra (Olga's House of Shame and sequels) and Joe Sarno (Sin in the Suburbs). All of these movies are perfectly if perversely pristine time capsules of underground, off-the-grid, urban and suburban New York in that era, captured and preserved in all its sleaze-noir glory. 


    THIS NIGHT I'LL POSSESS YOUR CORPSE (1967)
    José Mojica Marins - better known as "Coffin Joe" - stirred immense controversy and enjoyed 
    international notoriety by breaking every taboo in the book, especially The Good Book, with this psychedelic pulp classic, along with its predecessor, At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul (1964). The lushly lurid color just makes this one so much juicier. He made a lot of movies but it's his signature Coffin Joe persona that will haunt nightmares forever. If we're lucky. 


    SPIDER BABY (1967)
    AKA "The Maddest Story Ever Told," Jack Hill's sexy, gothic-noir fable about a cannibalistic family of urban hillbillies, starring poor, aging drunk Lon Chaney Jr., also introduced Sid Haig to the world of underground, over-the-top cult cinema. He's still going strong today, appearing in Rob Zombie's 3 From Hell. As you 'll see when you watch this movie, he was born to be Sid Haig and nobody else. 


    NIGHT OF THE BLOODY APES (1969)
    Essentially a remake of Rene Cardona's earlier female lucha monster movie Dr. Doom (1962), this much more graphic version in lurid color is also known as Horror Y Sexo, to give you an idea of its subtlety, or lack thereof. A pulp masterpiece. 



    THE CURIOUS DR. HUMPP (1969)
    A classic of Argentinian erotic horror (possibly a one-and done film genre), dripping mad science, female flesh and incidental tropical-noir atmosphere. Pure (or rather quite impure, depending on your personal perspective) pulp pleasure. 


    MAD DOCTOR OF BLOOD ISLAND (1969)
    This Filipino classic is a toss-up with the previous entry in the infamous Blood Island series, Brides of Blood (1968), but this one gets the slight edge because it has the cooler monster (whose head at least returns in the third entry, Beast of Blood). All three are extra pulpy blends of exotica and eroticism.


    MARK OF THE DEVIL (1970)
    As a paperboy in 1970s South Jersey I remember passing by the Glassboro Theater and seeing this poster and title on the marquee. I was both repelled and fascinated, which is the required reaction if you're even partly sane. I had a rough childhood, so I was already drawn to the dark side, at least in my fantasy life. I finally saw it much later, but by then I was so jaded I didn't need the infamous "barf bag." It was still pretty sick, though.


    I DRINK YOUR BLOOD (1970)
    Hippies scared me as a kid and sartorially speaking, still do. This movie demonstrates just how dirty and depraved a homicidal hippie cult could be. I kinda love 'em for it now.


    VAMPYROS LESBOS (1971)
    Hard to pick just one out of literally hundreds of the painfully prolific Jess Franco's moody sexual fever dreams, but this one is the best known, rightly so, with a groovy and still popular jazz-rock soundtrack. While not as stylish, Franco's Female Vampire (1975) starring his wife at the time, Lina Romay, is much more explicitly pornographic if that's what you're looking for, and I know that you are.


    THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (1972)
    I know most fans prefer the more mall-friendly Nightmare on Elm Street and Scream teen horror franchises, but for me, this absolutely filthy groundbreaker is Wes Craven's best demonstrates truly impactful and influential legacy in the genre.


    THRILLER - A CRUEL PICTURE (1973)
    Due to the cultural repression of the 1950s and earlier, once the censors cut filmmakers slack on both sides of the Atlantic as well as the Pacific, the dams of repression suddenly broke in a torrid torrent and along with relatively innocuous stuff like gratuitous shower scenes, the "rape and revenge" trend went full throttle, simultaneously sating the mostly male target audience's craving for unabashed sex and violence while at the same time incorporating a female empowerment angle due to the rise of feminism. It's a weird, compelling psychological mix that works best when viewed at a strictly gut level as intended. This is a Swedish film, like Ingmar Berman's The Virgin Spring 1960), the first and most respectable rape and revenge movie (which directly influenced Last House on the Left), though aimed at art houses. This one aimed much lower and hit its target on the bullseye. 


    TORSO (1973)
    Giallo is the Italian film genre inspired by the pulp books of the same designation, which were printed with yellow covers, hence the name. Most featured masked killers (long before Hollywood claimed to invent the cycle), beautiful women wearing flimsy clothing when not totally naked, and highly stylized, color-saturated set pieces. Cinematic fever dreams at their finest. Sergio Martino was one of the masters of the genre, also known for classics like Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key, All the Colors of the Dark, and The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh. Any of those could and should make this list. This one just has the shortest title due to its stateside distribution. Its original native title is The Bodies Bear Traces of Carnal Violence, which is much more apt.


    COFFY (1973)
    Toss-up between this and Pam Grier's other most iconic role in the equally reputable blaxploitation classic Foxy Brown, but this one just feels a tad nastier, so more suitable for this particular context. Essential viewing. 



    THE SINFUL DWARF (1973)
    This notorious Dutch classic is as shamelessly sick, filthy, and disgusting as it sounds. More so. Which is why I love it so. It's basically software porn for freak fetishists. 


    ANDY WARHOL'S FRANKENSTEIN (1973)
    Both this and Andy's Dracula (1974), both starring genre icon Udo Kier, are required viewing for all fans of psychotronic/exploitation/arthouse cinema, but this one just has more guts, gore and nudity, so I'd start here. Plus it came out first, its success inspiring the inevitable followup, so only fair.


    THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (1974)
    Tobe Hooper's documentary-style groundbreaker needs no further sales pitch from me. It's formidable reputation and influence are still resonating in our cinematic culture. The lack of actual gore and music remains impressive, relying solely on organic atmosphere to induce dread, nausea, and teeth-clenching tension.



    SHIVERS (1975)
    Canadian filmmaker David Cronenberg scored his first international horror hit with this erotic horror masterpiece, carving his own unique niche in the genre with his trademark blend of austere aesthetics, visceral body horror, and neurotic sexuality. Plus Barbara Steele. 


    ILSA, SHE WOLF OF THE SS (1975)
    Dyanne Thorne made an international name for herself in one of the first and most influential "Nazisploitation" movies, which combined the hidden decadence of Nazi Germany with early torture porn and Women In Prison movie tropes, without ever even hinting at The Final Solution. That's good, because then we can enjoy them as the trashy sexploitation films they were meant to be, guilt-free. Well, if you have any kind of social or moral conscience, that is. The "sequels" are worth watching too, if only for her bountifully busty, gleefully evil presence, though they're not set in a concentration camp, which makes them slightly less cringe-inducing to watch. 



    STRIP NUDE FOR YOUR KILLER (1975)
    One of the sexiest and most stylish giallo films ever made, despite or perhaps due to that titillating if completely wrong title. It certainly lives up to it. In fact, it's probably my favorite giallo film. It just turns me on. 


    RUSS MEYER'S SUPERVIXENS (1975)
    Russ Meyer is one of my favorite filmmakers (along with David Lynch and Jim Jarmusch) because of his singular voice and signature style, not to mention all the gratuitous boobs, and any of his films would qualify for this list, since they played almost primarily in drive-ins and grindhouses. I chose this one because by the 1970s Russ was really allowed to let loose with the sex and violence, and the ladies here, particularly Shari Eubank, are especially luscious. 



    RUSS MEYER'S UP! (1976)
    This is also a quintessential Russ Myer later period movie featuring one of my favorite of. his leading ladies, and my good personal friend, the incredibly sensuous, utterly ravishing Raven de La Croix.


    BLOODSUCKING FREAKS (1976)
    Another film without any artistic or social redemption whatsoever. Just non-stop cheap thrills, bargain basement gore effects, blood dripping down naked breasts, evil ugly men doing vile things to innocent people...yeah, it's pretty great. Well, not great, just...it is what it is, no apologies. I respect that. Sort of.


    ISLAND OF DEATH (1976)
    This Greek film is an absolutely amazing sun-splashed wallow in animalistic sex and ritualistic violence. Has to be seen to be believed. Plus it's Greek. Did I mention that already? Just trying to redeem myself by pointing out it's a "foreign art film."


    THE HILLS HAVE EYES (1977)
    Wes Craven's other early influential horror classic. It's not as good (meaning not as brutally explicit) as the remake, though, but that's partly due to the restrictions imposed by the distribution. Nobody wanted another Last House on the Left. Well, not enough paying patrons outside the grindhouse circuit, anyway. It's still pretty unnerving. 


    RABID (1977)
    David Cronenberg scored another hit with this supernaturally sexy take on modern vampirism that morphs into a raging zombie movie. Porn star Marilyn Chambers proves she is actually a really good actress. Perfect for this role, anyway. A remake is in the works as of this writing. The trailer looks very promising. But it will never replace the original, because nobody does Cronenberg like Cronenberg, also one of my favorite filmmakers due to the very personal originality permeating all of his work.


    SUSPIRIA (1977)
    Speaking of remakes, the recent one of Dario Argento's signature masterpiece of macabre mood was pretty good in its own right, but again, nobody beats or matches the master at his own game. Nobody.


    HITCH-HIKE (1977)
    David Hess became the the go-to killer-rapist for exploitation filmmakers after Last House on the Left, and this intense revenge thriller is perhaps the best of that subgenere. I knew David in real life. We were at dinner once with Monica and filmmaker Rob Nilsson and David turned to me and said, "Hey man, I really like your wife!" Creeped me out.


    BARE KNUCKLES (1977)
    Yeah. That's my Pop. But this isn't just a matter of bias. Even without the personal connection, this flick is quintessential grindhouse. Pop's onscreen action partner, played by John Daniels, is simply called "Black." Gloria Hendry is in it too, too. It has a masked kung-fu serial killer riding a motorcycle, a fistfight in a gay bar, and the wah-wah pedal score was composed by a guy who normally did porn flicks and it sounds like it. In fact the soundtrack has been reissued on LP. Plus the director was Don Edmonds of "Ilsa She Wolf" fame. I rest my case.

    EMANUELLE IN AMERICA (1977)
    Following the worldwide smash success of the French softcore porn flick Emmanuelle (1974), grindhouse auteur Joe D-Amato dropped one of the "m"'s but added way more nudity, sex and violence in his own unauthorized ripoff/spinoff series starring Laura Gemser. This is perhaps the best of the bunch, meaning it's the worst in terms of completely senseless sex and violence, meaning it's the best. 


    DAWN OF THE DEAD (1978)
    The Greatest Zombie movie ever made from the man who single-handedly invented the genre as we know it today. Also my favorite horror film ever. 'Nuff said.

    I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE (1979)
    The most famous, or infamous, of all rape-and-revenge movies, not just due to that killer title. No other movie of its ill ilk can boast its no-holds-barred approach to the touchy subject matter. It was rather recently remade and rebooted several times, and successfully, too. But there's no way to replicate the organically nasty and dirty ambience of the original, largely due to its grimy, gritty setting and era. Everyone one in it needs a shower and so will you. 



    BEYOND THE DARKNESS (1979)
    Joe D'Amato knew how to mix lowdown sex and lowbrow violence like nobody else and he could both scare you and turn you on at the same time. This notorious nightmare-on-film is perhaps his apex as an exploitation filmmaker. It's just plain insane.



    FASCINATION (1979) 
    Yet another of my favorite filmmakers is Jean Rollin, who made both hardcore porn and sexy horror films simultaneously in the 1970s, often with the same actors, who were all beautiful and talented. Again, any one of his classics--especially earlier masterworks like The Shiver of the Vampires, Grapes of Death,  The Living Dead Girl, The Demoniacs, and The Iron Rose--could make this list, since they're all pure erotic cinematic poetry. This one is widely considered one of his most accomplished, featured my favorite of his leading ladies, Brigitte Lahaie, so it's a good place to start. 

    ZOMBIE (1979)
    Marketed internationally as a direct sequel to Dawn of the Dead, Lucio Fulci's masterpiece of undead gore, with a tropical setting much like the Italian cannibal movies of the period, was actually more directly influenced by Val Lewtons' '40s mood piece I Walk with a Zombie. The pulsating electronic score by Fabio Frizzi helps augment the suspense and sense of creeping dread much like Goblin did for Romero, but the makeup effects are way, way more effective. Plus the iconic shark-vs-zombie with sexy topless underwater diver scene. Or the equally iconic wooden hards-in-the-eyeball scene following a gratuitous shower scene. This one just has it all. Sorry, George. 


    CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD (1980)
    Another Fulci zombie classic, set in New England, and it's even more unsettling and disturbing than Zombie, due to the Lovecraftian atmosphere oozing apocalyptic, ghoulish, nightmarish imagery.



    BURIAL GROUND (1980)
    Italian director Andrea Bianchi didn't earn the respect of his peers like Fulci and Argento, and movies like this are the reason why. It just too obviously aims directly for the raincoat crowd. For example, the main female character's son, with whom there is obvious incestuous tension, is played by an adult midget who eventually turns into a zombie and bites her tit off. That's just one example of many nauseating, totally tasteless scenes. It's a classic. Give the man his due already. He was fearless if not peerless. 


    ZOMBIE HOLOCAUST (AKA Dr. Butcher) (1981)
    This one is both typical and exceptional for an Italian zombie movie of the era. What makes it seem special even if it's not is the pervasive, almost depressive feeling of extreme nastiness, even for its genre, though actually it's a mix of zombies and cannibals, giving it further distinction. It's also just plain sexy, in a very dirty and therefore satisfying way.


    THE BEYOND (1981)
    Fulci's masterpiece of moody apocalyptic undead voodoo dread is set in New Orleans with another fabulous freaky Frizzi score. It is perhaps his most bleakly yet beautifully poetic cinematic nightmare. It will haunt the hell out of you. 


    NIGHT OF THE HUNTED (1981) 
    My gal Brigitte Lahaie is back in another Jean Rollin classic which has the ambient feel of a Cronenberg film while being entirely unique and original. You'll remember it like a weird, surrealistic wet dream gone bad, and yet it made you feel so good. 


    HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP (1981)
    Roger Corman pissed off the female director when he inserted second unit-shot scenes of monsters actually impregnating female victims, but he knew that's what audiences wanted to see. No more gettin' carried off to the Black Lagoon honeymoon suite. 


    GALAXY OF TERROR (1981) 
    Roger Corman shamelessly ripped off both Star Wars and Alien and personally I like his low budget versions much better.  Cheaper in every sense of the word, meaning way more nudity and monster gore. This one features the infamous giant centipede having his way with a female astronaut. Of course, it all turned out to be an illusion. Maybe. 


    THE NEW YORK RIPPER (1982) 
    Fulci shocked even his most ardent fans along with his harshest critics with one of the most brutal films ever made. But it's the stark brutality (along with the gritty Manhattan setting) that makes it so compelling. This is unflinching, uncompromising and undeniably one of Fulci's greatest, if also hardest to stomach.


    TENEBRAE (1982)  
    Argento made several key giallo films but this is my personal favorite. It employs all of his trademark visual tricks and stylistic techniques in the most seamless way. Quintessential Argento and quintessential giallo. 


    THE INCUBUS (1982) 
    John Cassavettes actually has one of his most interesting roles (of course he makes every role interesting just by showing up and scowling) in this intriguing tale of conspiratorial witchcraft and forbidden sensuality in a typical small town. The atmosphere is thick with gray Northeastern gloom, which is what really makes it for me. Well, and the excessive female nudity, of course. 


    BASKET CASE (1982) 
    Frank Henelotter endeared himself to midnight movie fans and cult movie aficionados everywhere for generations with his audacious debut. It's a classic underground New York fable, sick and sleazy and yet touching in its own demented way. Made especially just for social outcasts and fringe dwellers, and that's me and you if you're reading this. The sequels are good and even more outlandish but not as charming, partly due to the bigger budgets and slicker production values. 


    DAY OF THE DEAD (1985) 
    George Romero himself considers this his best work and I must concur. It's both horrifying and thanks to the performance by the late Joe Pilato, freaking hilarious. Sherman Howard will forever be Bub to me, too.


    RE-ANIMATOR (1985)
    The first time I saw this with a buddy he actually had to get up and leave during the infamous "head" scene." When I showed it to another friend on video he had the same reaction. Me, I was riveted. I actually met Barbara Crampton recently. Nicest lady. Still looks great. Jeffrey Combs is really humble and friendly in person, too. When I saw director Stuart Gordon (also very cool) present this film at the Balboa in San Francisco, he told the audience why she took did the now legendary scene: "No guts, no glory." A Grand Guignol masterpiece. It's among my top 5 films ever.


    DEMONS (1985) 
    Mario's son Lamberto did Daddy proud with this intensely violent, vicious monster movie. It's just non-stop guts and blood, loaded with scary faces and screaming victims. It will make you squirm in your seat. But in a good way. If you like this kind of thing, anyway.


    HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER (1986) 
    It took me a while to actually accept that I like this movie. In fact, I'm not even sure I really do "like" it so much as admire the hell out of it. It has that documentary feel like "Texas Chainsaw," but its raw realism is even more nerve-wracking and gut-churning, thanks largely to the stellar performances, all formally trained Chicago stage actors including star Michael Rooker. He was just too convincing in this part. It had to come from someplace real, and if you know something about his rough childhood, you understand that place. 




    TOP 25 NEO-GRINDHOUSE FILMS

    AUDITION (1999)
    Takashi Miike, yet another of my favorite filmmakers, has made dozens and dozens of films spanning genres from noir to horror to samurai to comedy to musicals, but each is loud with his singular voice as a true cinematic visionary. The man does not hold back, and this masterful psychological torture porn flick is a perfect example. It's a slow burn, but when it blows up, it's right in your face, making an indelible impression on your fevered and strangely aroused brain.


    BAISE-MOI (2000)
    This modern (well, it was at the turn of the century), exceedingly explicit and raw rape-and-revenge thriller packs quite a punch, actually augmented by the rather bland direct-to-video visual style, which ultimately gives it a voyeuristic immediacy it might lack in a slicker framework. The star is actually a porn actress, and the sex scenes were reportedly not simulated...



    ICHI THE KILLER (2001)
    Probably my favorite Takashi Miike movie, since this unconventional Yakuza horror-noir contains all the elements that make his films so wildly unpredictable, revolutionary, audacious, sensuous, depraved, stylistic, and unique. 


    IRREVERSIBLE (2002)
    Gaspar Noé was obviously out to push polite society's buttons and piss off everyone right, left and center of several moral issues--or at the very least didn't give a shit--when he made this insanely controversial film that is another one I admire more than I enjoy. It's boldly rebellious in every way, from the backwards plot construction which actually works brilliantly to the brutally graphic rape scene to the tearjerking final shot, sending the viewer on a rollercoaster of emotions from anger to fear to lust to joy, without resolution or any redemption. This is neo-noir at its most nihilistic. 


    HIGH TENSION (2003)
    French filmmaker Alexandre Aja was at the forefront of what was to be known as the French New Extremity, when traditional elements of exploitation horror were graphically depicted with an uncensored brutality never seen before while at the same time injecting complex character studies, feminism, and pointed political commentaries into the mix. This is a perfect exponent of this rejuvenating if often reviled trend. It broke all the rules and made new ones, then broke those too. 


    HOUSE OF A 1,000 CORPSES (2003)
    I must admit I've never listened to a single Rob Zombie album because I'm just not into metal. But after seeing this movie I became an instant fan of his films, and in fact he also ranks among my favorite filmmakers. No one else replicates the giddy, gory glory days of classic grindhouse cinema then Rob. He obviously shares my love for many of the beloved genre icons of my childhood, including TV horror hosts and monster movie magazines, along with the natural beauty of the female figure (mostly embodied by his lovely wife), so naturally I'm on his creative wavelength. This is a like the raunchiest, goriest, creepiest, sexiest EC comics story come to life, incorporating elements from several different sources, but in the end, creating a unique blend all his own. I even prefer his two Halloween reboots over the originals (including Carpenter's, though he's also a personal fave), because Rob doesn't pussyfoot around depiction of graphic violence. He doesn't make teeny bopper spook shows. The cinema of Rob Zombie is a unique, hard-hitting, adults-only genre unto itself.


    THE DEVIL'S REJECTS (2005)
    See above, times a hundred. Masterpiece. Not for kids, even the ones who think
    they like horror movies.


    HOSTEL (2005)
    Though I'm not a torture porn fan per se, as I much prefer sex over violence in both movies and rea life, Eli Roth won me over with the smooth visual style, witty narrative expertise, and generous does of female nudity interspersed with truly gut-wrenching, savagely sadistic violence. Like it or not, it's a landmark in the history of horror, both borrowing from the genre's past while sharing its future.


    THE HILLS HAVE EYES (2006)
    Alexandre Aja cemented his already formidable reputation when he not only "reimagined" Wes Craven's original classic (while retaining the spirit and basic plot) but rejuvenated it by expanding the backstory of the mutant cannibals and framing it in as an Atomic Age cautionary tale of manmade horror. The makeup and gore effects are naturally superior, but the underlying "message" not to mention the carnal carnage are vastly more visceral. This is definitely a remake that is better on every level than its source material. Sorry, Wes (though he was an executive producer).


    FRONTIER(S) (2007)
    Another masterpiece of New French Extremity. It is very hard to watch, and so I've only seen it a couple of times. But its impact only increases with viewings. I thought I'd seen everything. Then I saw this. Trust me. It will crawl under your skin and then tear is way out.


    INSIDE (2007)
    This New French Extremity classic is made somewhat palatable by its insanely over-the-top characters and storyline, giving the outlandish action an almost cartoony sensation, but the buckets of blood and vicious violence will still make your stomach churn. It's like a fairy tale turned nightmare for breeders. I'm not sure it has a message about maternity, but it sure makes me glad my wife never even tried to have kids. Mine, I mean. 


    MARTYRS (2008)
    Again, this masterpiece of New French Extremity is extremely tough to sit through even once, but I actually did it again, because it is so compelling. It's emotionally, psychologically and physically brutal, an all-out assault on the viewer's senses, but the fact it works so beautifully is what gives it such hypnotic power, despite the horrific overkill, as it were. 


    EMBODIMENT OF EVIL (2008)
    Coffin Joe returns decades after his heyday in what I think is his best, or rather most effective film, since by now he was artistically free to let his ingeniously deranged imagination run completely wild, unfettered by censors or even timid audiences, who demanded he show the world where true cinematic dementia orginated. He does not let us down. 


    THE LOVED ONES (2009)
    This Ozploitation classic is one of those movies that will make you laugh, gag and possibly vomit at the same time. It's a deliriously disturbed and disturbing satire of romantic obsession, its terrifying tale of torment gradually then suddenly unraveling, so you never know what to expect and even if you think you do, you're still shocked by its audacity. 


    A SERBIAN FILM (2010)
    Whatever you've heard about this film, it's worse. Much worse. Which could mean better, depending on what you're expecting. It's definitely different, and perversely interesting, but not "entertaining" to anyone remotely well adjusted.  It is so artfully sick and twisted on so many levels that I'm ashamed of myself for watching it more than once. I don't know what's wrong with me. It makes me wonder, though. It makes me wonder what's wrong with our entire species, and maybe that was the point, if there is one.


    THE HUMAN CENTIPEDE 2 - FULL SEQUENCE (2011)
    See above, times a hundred. It makes Parts 1 and 3 look like Disney movies by comparison. I've never seen anything quite so repulsive yet mesmerizing. I swore I'd never watch it again after I forced myself through the first time. But I did, because I just can't believe I exists. 


    HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN (2011)
    This originated as a faux trailer, Grindhouse-style, that won a contest, which meant it got bankrolled into a feature film. People like me who love truly original, fearless, reckless, hilarious, colorful, fuck-you-in-the-face cinematic pulp are eternally grateful. 


    MANIAC (2012)
    Another remake that to me is vastly superior to the original on both a technical and a narrative level. Its beautiful visual style does nothing to diminish the deeds of its psychological its psychotic serial killer protagonist, played with troubling conviction by Elijah Wood. I also love its dreamy retro-synth score. 


    THE STRANGE COLOR OF YOUR BODY'S TEARS (2013)
    The French filmmaking duo of Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani create what I often and lovingly refer to as "cinematic fever dreams" with a style that is both retro and timeless, unique in this day and age of pastiches and reboots. They capture the spirit of classic giallo without trying to replicate it, giving us a beautiful visual poem to experience as much as witness. 


    THE CURSE OF DR. WOLFFENSTEIN (2015)
    This movie is so blatantly crude I almost didn't include it, but the fact is, it contains more blood, gore, nudity, depravity, poor dubbing and bad acting to fill fifty other exploitation films of greater artistic merit, so for succeeding with that ambition alone, it makes the cut. One of many.


    BASKIN (2015)
    Turkish surrealistic horror. I had no idea such a thing existed, I mean outside the real world. But here it is. A masterpiece of this very specific and for now limited subgenre. Pulp oozes out of every pore, and the horror is both elemental and abstract. It is literally a nightmare on film. Sorry, Freddy. You can't compete. 


    WE ARE THE FLESH (2016)
    I've long been a fan of Mexican horror, but it's come a long way since the days of El Santo and Blue Demon fighting vampire women and zombies. Though I will always love the campy fun of the old wrestlers-vs-monsters classics, this new breed of sexually graphic, politically charged pulp cinema is like a shot of tequila after a drive through the desert of mainstream culture, from any country. This seemingly post apocalyptic tale of survival in an underground hellhole is deceptively simple at first, until layers of deception are peeled away like the clothes of the young protagonists. Cinematic fever dream, Mexico style.


    MANDY (2018)
    Speaking of cinematic fever dreams as I obviously often do, Greek-Canadian by way of Italy filmmaker Panos Cosmatos has only made two films I know of so far, but both are among the most riveting if deliberately paced I've ever seen, due entirely to the absorbing atmosphere he creates in both Beyond the Black Rainbow and this, which also features Nicolas Cage at his most delightfully unhinged. It's about cults and revenge on the surface, but mostly, it's about swimming through someone else's nightmare, and loving every dark, delirious minute of it.


    LET THE CORPSES TAN (2019)
    Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani's best film to date, which makes it one of my favorite films of this century. It is a gorgeous, dreamy mood piece smoothly combining elements of 1970s Italian cop flicks, spaghetti Westerns, and highly stylized horror, with a seductive soundtrack and eye-popping set pieces. I just fucking love the shit out of this thing. 

    3 FROM HELL (2019)
    Haven't even seen it as of this writing. But some things you just know.
    I'll revise this if Rob Zombie lets me down.
    Never bet get against the grindhouse...


    CHEERS!

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    BACHELOR PAD MAGAZINE #48 featuring my 48th movie column,
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    Bachelor Pad Magazine #50 featuring my 50th movie column, now on sale!




    Reading from Vic Valentine, Private Eye backed by Dmitri Matheny and his band,
    Tula's Jazz Club, Seattle, 8/7/19

    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017




    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 



















    BOOKS:



    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!
    BUY


    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books




    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY
    THE "MENTAL CASE FILES":
    VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

     VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE LIZARD FOR HIRE
    BUY



    VIC VALENTINE: SPACE CADET
    BUY


    VIC VALENTINE, PRIVATE EYE: 14 VIGNETTES
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY





    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 

    SHORT STORIES:


     My sci-fi horror noir satire "Soft Opening" is included in this gonzo anthology from Coffin Hop Press.




    New Vic Valentine vignette "Living Proof" included in this charity anthology benefitting the North Texas Food Bank.



    DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE, an anthology dedicated to the late, great writer and stellar human being William E. Wallace, featuring many contemporary crime fiction stars plus a brand new Vic Valentine story, "Beat This," by yours truly. Proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in Bill's name. More info and purchase links here.


    My short story FISH OUT OF WATER 
    (my idea for a fourth Creature from the Black Lagoon movie)
    is included in this anthology
    Order hardcover, paperback and eBook from Amazon



    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 




    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!


    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 

    for which I also wrote the foreword:

    My short story BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology
















  4. After forty years of commercially fruitless but artistically rewarding literary labor, I just can't stop writing. It's not a choice. It's a compulsion. I continue to write for one reason: it makes me feel good. It's never hard for me to write. It's hard for me to not write. 


    It doesn't matter how obscure my stuff remains, or how little of my financial investment in their pristine exterior and interior design is returned. It doesn't matter that I have a very small but loyal cult following of readers whose enthusiasm is as genuine as the apathy from the majority of the human beings who even realize I exist. None of this matters because my art is not my hobby or career. It's my Art. That may sound pretentious but I don't care about that any more than I care about the world's extremely limited reception to my life's work.

    Now over halfway through my 50s (having turned 56 this past April 2), I'm more productive and prolific than ever. A lot of this relentless creative drive I attribute to my proactive move to Seattle five years ago, which has proven to be a reliably misty, moody ambient muse. But it's also simply the tick-tock of my internal clock, constantly reminding me that Life has its own secret deadlines, and if I want to beat that built-in self destruct device that began its inevitable countdown with my first breath, I need to make the most of whatever time I have left doing what I love and frankly feel I do best, which is writing existential pulp fiction in direct response to my life circumstances, inspired both by my immediate surroundings and the often outré pop culture that fuels my ever-active imagination, which continues to spin and weave images and ideas as I daily walk dogs through the emerald environs on my favorite city, where I'm fortunate enough to reside.

    All of which brings us to my latest work, which I believe is my best:

    VIC VALENTINE, PRIVATE EYE: 14 VIGNETTES is based on a concept I've been mentally kicking around for a while, but which really kicked into high hear once I finished the last installment in my "Mental Case Files" trilogy, Vic Valentine: Space Cadet, which found Vic in a desolate place of psychic and social isolation.

    Rather than write another novel, especially following Vic's reaching a seemingly final impasse as a developing character, I decided to go back and fill in various gaps in his life story, spanning back to his childhood, riffing off various references embedded in the existing canon but also inventing entirely new narratives that can be completed in a single compact but comprehensive piece.

    These are not conventional mysteries or crime or horror stories, though elements of those genres are sprinkled in for storytelling spice. These are simply slices of a singular life, more Bukowski than Chandler or Lynch. But ultimately, 100 percent me.

    The back cover blurb sums up the general aim, attitude and arc of these thematically inter-related but otherwise standalone stories, pulled together by a surprise thread at the very end:

    Lounge lizard. International man of misery. Space cadet. Dog walker. Lover. Loner. Fighter. Fool. Vic Valentine has been all of these things and more, and less—much less. These fourteen torrid tales of forbidden love, shameless lust, surrealistic horror, existential mystery, pointless mayhem, and just plain stupidity spanning Vic’s entire pathetic life collectively illuminate the darkest corners of the human condition, without revealing a single god damn truth, other than we’re all lonely globs of ephemeral flesh wandering aimlessly around a big ball of shit hanging by a thread in a vast, apathetic void. 

    Welcome to the hypnotic, erotic, neurotic world of Vic Valentine, Private Eye.


    VIC VALENTINE, PRIVATE EYE: 14 VIGNETTES now on sale!





    EVOLUTION OF A COVER


    Sinatra looking suitably moody and lonesome on this classic album cover
    gave me the initial concept....

    Famous Playmate Janet Pilgrim was my unwitting model too, to add some of my brand's trademark cheesecake sex appeal...

    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me in 2013
    for facial reference to replace Frank



     Putting it all together....





     FINAL FRONT COVER BY MATT BROWN


    BACK COVER DESIGN BY DYER WILK
    Dyer actually offered an abandoned project to me a while ago, and with a little tweaking,
    I thought it would be a perfect complement to the retro-dreamy front image, which represents
    the idealized world in Vic's head. This is the actual reality engulfing him: harsher, contemporary, but still sexy...





    PROMO MEMES FOR SOCIAL MEDIA: 













    CRYPTICON SEATTLE, 5/4/19
     Barbara Steele
     Ray Wise and Sheryl Lee




    CELEBRATING MY 56TH BIRTHDAY 

    PRE-BDAY:
    DEVILS' REEF, Tacoma WA
     
     
     

    SALISH LODGE, Snoqualmie WA
     
     

    TWEDE'S CAFE, North Bend WA



    "TWIN PEAKS" 


    BDAY, APRIL 2, 2019

    PLUM VEGAN BISTRO, Seattle:







    TAVERN LAW/NEEDLE AND THREAD, Seattle:












    CHEERS!











    OUR 18TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
    McMenamins Anderson School 
    5/31/19
    Look what I found in the gift shop...


    Capital Grille, Seattle 6/1/19
     
     
     



    Toasting 5 years in Seattle at a "Mister Bob" (El Vez) show, 
    The Triple Door, 6/20/19
     


    Bimbo's Cantina/Cha Cha Lounge, Seattle
     
     
     

    Hanging with old friend Michael Thanos of Forbidden Island in Alameda, CA
    at Jason Alexander's Devil's Reef in Tacoma, 6/28/19
     
     
     
    and at The Old Hangout, new tiki bar up the way at McMenamins Elks Temple
     

    SEATTLE SUNSET TIKI CRUISE, 6/29/19


     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

    TWIN PEAKS (North Bend, Snoqualmie WA) 7/14.19

      
     


    Twin Peaks Pub:

    You may also dig:


    BACHELOR PAD MAGAZINE #48 featuring my 48th movie column,
     this one spotlighting Jayne Mansfield!





    Reading from Vic Valentine, Private Eye backed by Dmitri Matheny and his band,
    Tula's Jazz Club, Seattle, 8/7/19

    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017




    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 



















    BOOKS:



    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!
    BUY


    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books




    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY
    THE "MENTAL CASE FILES":
    VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

     VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE LIZARD FOR HIRE
    BUY



    VIC VALENTINE: SPACE CADET
    BUY


    VIC VALENTINE, PRIVATE EYE: 14 VIGNETTES
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY





    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 


    NOW AVAILABLE! 
    DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE, an anthology dedicated to the late, great writer and stellar human being William E. Wallace, featuring many contemporary crime fiction stars plus a brand new Vic Valentine story, "Beat This," by yours truly. Proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in Bill's name. More info and purchase links here.


    My short story FISH OUT OF WATER 
    (my idea for a fourth Creature from the Black Lagoon movie)
    is included in this anthology
    Order hardcover, paperback and eBook from Amazon


    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 



    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!



    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 
    for which I also wrote the foreword:


    My short story 
    BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology



  5. NOW AVAILABLE!
    VIC VALENTINE: SPACE CADET

    Amazon Print Edition

    Kindle Edition

    If you've been following the Vic Valentine series, you've noticed a trend: they're getting increasingly bizarre and hallucinatory, surrealistic and psychotic. Essentially I've folded Vic's more or less "conventional" world within the universe of my other books, which are what I call "psychotronic noir": A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge, Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the RoomLavender Blonde, and Things I Do When I'm Awake. These seeds were planted back in Hard-Boiled Heart (Gutter Books, 2015), my first Vic book in twenty years, wherein he migrates northward to my own current home of Seattle. With the introduction of a mysterious "stalker sailor statue" dubbed Ivar, it became apparent Vic was suffering either the early symptoms of a psychotic break from reality or he was being vexed by supernatural forces. Or both. 

    With the next one, Vic Valentine: International Man of Misery (Thrillville Press, 2017), largely inspired by my stint as an instructor at a writers' retreat down in Costa Rica, I swerved deep into left field with a completely over-the-top quasi-espionage thriller/zombie horror satire wherein the B movie sensibilities that have always informed Vic's world view began to manifest in dangerous and disturbing ways, both physically and psychologically, partly stimulated by forced injection of enhanced, mutated opioids, adding to the mystery of his condition. Then with Vic Valentine: Lounge Lizard For Hire (Thrillville Press, 2018), possibly my most gonzo-meta novel yet, I fused my entire body of fictional work into what I'm calling the "Vihorrorverse," with Vic at the forefront, wherein he confronts my own former longtime impresario doppelgänger "Will the Thrill" as well as my very first creation, Chumpy Walnut, along with oblique references to my other books.


    THE MENTAL CASE FILES:


    Now, with the latest and final volume in a trilogy I'm calling "The Mental Case Files," called Vic Valentine: Space Cadet, I'm incorporating a few fanciful elements from my two sci-fi novels co-conceived and partially co-authored by amateur scientist Scott Fulks, It Came from Hangar 18 (2012) and The Space Needler's Intergalactic Bar Guide (2015), alternating back and forth between his erotic fantasies while grounding Vic's Earthbound experiences in gritty reality, dealing with issues of mortality, aging, and impotence via a time jump forward from the last few books:

    Vic Valentine is lost inside the space between his ears. His lifelong slow-burning mental meltdown, sexual obsessiveness, fatal self-absorption, and epic existential angst have resulted in a complete break from conventional external reality. Now convinced his entire life is a movie, he finds himself trapped on Planet Thrillville, encountering voluptuous alien femme fatales, mutated monsters, intergalactic gangsters, his own unleashed demons, and his arch nemesis, “Will the Thrill,” the evil overlord of Vic’s own alternative internal universe. 

    Not exactly noir. Not exactly horror. Not exactly science fiction. Not even a story, really. This is a psychotic, psychotronic journey you experience, not merely read. 

    And now here is a lengthy excerpt, which gives you a strong sense of the deeply psychological and existential underpinnings of an otherwise outlandish odyssey in an alternate dimension of retro sci-fi tropes. Here is the back cover blurb. The photos were taken at Bar House in the Fremont district of Seattle, referenced here:


    As I sit and stare at the Space Needle, mesmerized by its retro-futuristic immobility in time, I wonder how I can make it launch and take me back to Planet Thrillville. Of course, I have no idea how or why or when I was returned to Earth, which must’ve been against my will. Will the Thrill. I even miss that crazy bastard. If he ever actually existed. At least Jean Luc still exists, but he’s just an old dog. Like me. 





    I pet Jean Luc, who no longer talks to me, at least not in human language. I miss our conversations back on Planet Thrillville. I miss the isolation from humanity, especially now that I’m once again surrounded by swarms of strangers who all annoy me, just their very presence. They don’t make me feel less lonely. They make me feel lonelier, because none of them are Val. And even though they can talk, they don’t have anything to say I want to hear. I hug Jean Luc around the neck, pressing my forehead against his, hoping to communicate telepathically. He just licks my face. He can’t talk, and the Space Needle can’t fly. But I can die if I try. I feel ready for the next phase, even if it’s nothing. Especially if it’s nothing. I’m just so tired.

    As I contemplate my few options, I hear a saxophone playing a melancholy melody nearby. Since it’s Christmas Eve and very cold, no one else is around. Just this lone sax player and me and Jean Luc. Then I recognize the tune: “Windswept,” by Johnny Jewel. Not exactly a standard. It became one of my personal signature tunes when I first heard it on Twin Peaks: The Return, many, many years ago, or so it seems now. I would play it on Planet Thrillville all the time, when sitting alone by the lake, watching the nymphs and mermaids frolicking in the placid water beneath the falls. It seems unlikely a sax player would play such a relatively obscure tune. It’s not exactly a standard. Most wouldn’t recognize it. It’s as if he’s playing it only for me. Unless I’m just hearing what I want to hear and he’s actually playing “Silent Night” or something more seasonally correct. We all just hear what we want to hear sometimes, right? Maybe it’s just me.



    What difference does it make what we perceive to be real or not. It’s all so ephemeral anyway.

    Finally I drop Jean Luc off and go home to my studio apartment. I no longer have cable or Netflix or any of that hi-tech jazz. Just remnants of my once epic DVD/Blu Ray collection, almost all vintage horror/sci-fi/noir films. I have the entire Ultra Lounge CD series from the ‘90s, and some West Coast Jazz LPs, but that’s it, music-wise, though I do tune into KNKX, the local jazz station now and then. I also have a modest stack of books, mostly Raymond Chandler, John Fante, and Charles Bukowski. I’ve distilled my possessions down to their very essence. Just enough to keep me preoccupied between dog walks.

    My place is not only small but sparsely furnished. All of my books and movies are neatly stashed in fruit crates set side by side and atop each other, then over the very top was my TV and Blu Ray player. I sleep on a comfortable couch that pulled out into a bed, though I never bother to do that, preferring to crash on it and doze off while staring at the screen. I lead the life of a solitary hermit. I like it. I feel content with my spartan lifestyle. I just wish I had someone to share it with. Sometimes. Mostly when I’m out and about on the street I keep my head down and avoid any eye contact with other humans. I just can’t relate to my own species. I belong someplace else, I think. A breed apart, unto myself, drifting aimlessly through my own little fabricated universe. I’m only here to mate with Earth women. But not to propagate my own kind. The Universe can barely stand one of me. I’m meant to be in solitary confinement. It’s a life and possibly a death sentence.

    Well, there’s Ivar, the sailor statue. He’s still here, believe it or not, keeping me company or haunting me, depending on my mood. But here he’s back to his normal size, and eerily silent, though I swear I hear him clopping around on his peg leg late at night in the dark sometimes. Maybe it’s just my imagination, which, as you’ve probably deduced by now, is pretty active, even if the rest of me isn’t.

    While taking a leak in the tiny bathroom, I open the cabinet above the tiny sink. It all reminds me of residential hotels I lived in when I was young, but neater, cleaner. I study an array of prescription bottles with names I cannot comprehend or decipher. I assume they’re meant for my blood pressure and other old man ailments. I reach for one bottle, but then put it back. I just don’t feel like self-medicating at the moment, especially since I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, besides the ache in my gut, the same one that plagued me as a solitary youth, after Rose left.


    Since I am missing Planet Thrillville, where I have been quite recently, or so it feels, I select one of my old favorites, Angry Red Planet, from 1959. I wish I had a pet. Why don’t I? Maybe I’ll go adopt one tomorrow. Oh, it will be Christmas, so all the shelters will probably be closed. The day after.

    Other than a TV, Blu Ray player, and combo LP/CD player, I don’t have any other technological amenities besides my cellphone, which I maintain mostly to keep in touch with my canine clients. No computer. I never had a social media account in my life, anyway. Too many crazies out there. I just wanted to be left in peace.

    Now here I am, crazy and alone. I’ll probably die that way, just like my mother. I guess I deserve it.

    As I watch the movie, the giant rat-bat-crab-spider monster shows up in a nightmarish sequence presented the lurid glory of “Cinemagic,” a process pioneered by this film (and which frankly never caught on), which makes everything tinted red due to a reversed negative or something. It reminds me of the Space Bar. That’s when I notice something I had never noticed before, despite how often I’d seen it: one of the crew members of the stranded rocket-ship is me. 

    I get up and look closer into the screen, squinting for confirmation. Yep, it’s my younger self, all right, shooting lasers at the monster. I close my eyes and concentrate and suddenly I’m back on Planet Thrillville, but in the lurid, crimson ambience of Cinemagic, defending Doc and all my friends from the rat-bar-crab-spider monster with my ray gun, dressed in my astronaut duds. In the distance I see the Space Needle parked in its usual spot. Jean Luc runs up and hugs me and says hello, welcome back. I mean, like, literally.

    My cellphone rings, still the Theme from Peter Gunn by Mancini, snapping me back into Fremont. I answer, but it turns out to be my alarm, which I guess I’d set by accident since I’m always accidentally hitting buttons that do weird shit on that thing. I look around. My studio apartment is dark and empty and cold. I figure it’s time to go out for a drink. But Nurse Shiela had told me my credit card had been declined, so it must’ve been maxed out. I didn’t even know I had one. Then instinctively, I look under my mattress.

    Thousands of dollars in cash is there, hidden in plain sight. Without questioning it, I grab a wad and head down to Bar House for some bourbon. My true medicine. 

    A festive row of glowing plastic Santa statues gleams along the top of the porch as I enter. Friends of Ivar’s, no doubt. They’re closing up early since it’s Christmas Eve, so I only have time for a couple of shots as Dean Martin sings “Christmas Blues.” The joint is almost empty, both up front and in back. I take another weak leak in the bathroom just so I can dig the virtual porthole into an ersatz undersea kingdom filled with coral reefs and radiant jellyfish and other exotic aquatic wonders, which reminds me of the old submarine ride at Disneyland. My parents took my brother and me there once as a kid, my first trip to California. I barely remember it except for the submarine and the Enchanted Tiki Room and Haunted Mansion. I hear Tomorrowland has been ruined, all the vintage retro-futurism replaced by contemporary crap. Oh, well. That’s what’s considered progress, I guess. I remain happily stuck in the future of my past.

























    I’m in the Space Bar alone, basking in day-glow green and neon purple, surrounded by fake painted planets and kaleidoscope milky ways, all bathed in dreamy ultraviolet. I’m the last one to leave as the interstellar lights go out. I walk back home and put in another disc, Journey to the Seventh Planet (1962), another hypnotic, surrealistic sci-fi classic from the same team that brought us Angry Red Planet, Sidney W. Pink and Ib Melchior. This one is set on Uranus, not mine. The astronauts hallucinate vivid mirages of women and places from their past courtesy of an alien brain. That always explains everything. 

    Gradually I fall sleep, perchance to dream, so I can wake up again someplace else.





    Here's one more:






    Behind the bar stands Val Valentine, my wife, in all her naked glory, wearing nothing but high heels and a flimsy silk nightie since I see everything and everyone from a woefully outmoded, middle-aged moldy, hopelessly heterosexual male point of view, which many would distill down to simply being “a sexist pig,” at least back on Earth. In any case, Val is standing where Monica Tiki Goddess was only an instant before. At first I thought they had merged, but then I notice Monica sitting on a bar stool, chatting up Don Draper, whom I imagine she conjured up after binge-streaming Mad Men in her private, plushly appointed, midcentury modernist luxury suite upstairs, one I knew she had, if only intuitively. It sure beat banging that lounge lizard loser Will the Thrill in my dingy little San Francisco office above The Drive-Inn, if only virtually-speaking. Unless she enjoys slumming.

    “You again,” I say, realizing just how much Val resembles Nurse Shiela and vice versa. Maybe my lonely little old man life down in the Fremont district of Seattle is the true delusion. I can only hope. “Are you telling me that you’re in charge of this overpopulated dreamscape?”

    “Is that any more or less credible than the load of crap this clown is feeding you?”


    Will the Thrill is oblivious to the insult, too immersed in abject lust as he gazes longingly upon my wife’s luscious form. “Any time you wanna trade up, baby, just let me know,” he says with a smug smirk.

    Val nods, smiles, mixes a flaming tiki drink, and throws it in Will the Thrill’s face. He runs upstairs crying because he needs to clean his leopard skin fez now, before it stains. Val walks around and sits on the stool beside me, gazing into my mesmerized eyes. Les Baxter and his band just keep playing their Ultra Lounge music live.

    “Vic, it wasn’t him who called you on the Interocitor. It was me.”

    “Are you saying you and Will the Thrill are one? That could add up to a lot of deeply weird things, none of which I want to ponder.” For an instant, I considered the fact that back on Earth, whenever I beat off to a voluptuous feminine fantasy, before they were all projected into corporeal flesh here on this tangible if imaginary world, I was actually having sex with myself.

    “No. I’m me and you’re you, Vic. And thankfully neither of us are that idiot.” She puts her hand on my knee and I get a boner, which she notices and ignores. “I’m telling you this world is mine, not yours, and certainly not his. And you need to go home now.”

    “I won’t leave without you.”

    “But that’s how you got here, Vic. You left me down on Earth.”

    “Okay, even if that’s true, you’re here now.”

    “I’m also there.”

    “Because here is there and there is here?”

    “Now you’re getting it. You need to make here there and there here. Once you do, you’ll understand I never left. You did. But the only way we can reunite is for you to leave me here and go back there.”

    “But…I’m here with you now. If I leave, I’ll be there. Without you.”

    “I’m not the same me there as I am here, and once you’re there, you’ll be with me there, too. Then we’ll both be here, because there will become here.”

    “But if we both stay here, won’t there still be here?”


    “No, it will still be there.”


    “Can’t we bring there here?”

    “NO. You have to bring here there.”

    “How?”


    “By leaving here and staying there until both become the same.”

    “You sound as confused, and confusing, as Will the Thrill now.”

    “Vic, Will the Thrill is just a figment of your imagination. There is no Will the Thrill. He claims to be your overlord when in fact, you’re calling all the shots.”

    “But I thought you were?”

    “Only up here. Not down there.”

    “So I don’t need to merge with him and lose my identity?”

    “They, I mean, both of you, already co-exist in parallel planes, but not always on the same plane. He wants to be the dominant aspect of your personality, but you’re resisting in order to maintain your own identity.”

    “Right. So?”


    “If you stay here, you won’t be able to sustain this split personality, either physically or mentally. You’ll lose all memory of Earth, of Vic Valentine, and become this fictional character with no past or future, only an eternal present inside of a cartoon bubble. You see what I’m saying.”

    I think about it a while, then finally I just say, “No. I think you’re both crazy. I’m going back home now. You can join me if you want.”

    “Which home is that, Vic?”


    “The one I live in.”

    “Are you sure?”


    “That I live someplace?”

    “That you’re living.”

    I shake my head in the negative, and walk out into the cold, rainy, Blade Runner-esque landscape, singing “A Man Without Love,” but slowly and sadly, so nothing blooms. It’s all just a murky puddle of desolate isolation, no matter where I go.

    So why leave? Unless it’s involuntary. That would be the scary option. Losing control. Even the illusion of it. Val and Will the Thrill and this mysterious unseen Deity he keeps referring to may claim rights over my destiny, but as long as I can keep manifesting my own, I’ll pretend it’s all my idea.

    Then a massive wind blows me into the black sky, and I disappear into a void of nothingness, where I remain, without any sight, sound or sensation, for what seems an eternity, and maybe it is.

    Except then I’m back in my cot in Fremont. My alarm is going off. I pick up my phone and look at the time. I put on my dog walking shoes and head out the creaky door into the dark dreamworld of my daylight dementia.

    End excerpt.


    There you have it.

    I'm aiming for publication in early spring 2019. (Check back here and also my Fiction Page for updates). Meantime, this gives you a good idea of where I'm headed, the influences, and the agenda.

    Here is the evolution of the fantastic cover art:

    FRONT COVER by Matt Brown, with my images as inspiration:








    BACK COVER by Dyer Wilk, also per my instructions, though like Matt he added his own unique artistic flourishes to make it his own:

    Photoshop by Michael Fleming






    FULL WRAPAROUND




    PROMO MEMES








































    BOOK LAUNCH BAR CRAWL
    March 8, 2019
    Celebrating at some of the locations in the book...


     
     BALLARD SMOKE SHOP


     BETTY'S ROOM

     NORM'S EATERY AND ALE HOUSE


     
     
    BAR HOUSE

    Reading from Vic Valentine: Space Cadet, Noir at the Bar Seattle, The Alibi Room, 4/11/19:
     
     
     


    Additionally, I'm very proud to announce the publication of my story "Fish out of Water" -- inspired by the Creature from the Black Lagoon film trilogy -- in this amazing anthology:



    BACHELOR PAD MAGAZINE #47 featuring my regular movie column, this time focusing on the classic films of my favorite actor Marlon Brando, now on sale.

    Cheers to the Future. 





    Highline: a heavy metal vegan bar in Seattle

    Monica got me these doggie 'jamas for Christmas

    University of Washington Club


     
    Happy Vic Valentine's Day!


    Joli, Seattle:
     
     
     
     


    NOIR CITY SEATTLE, 2/16/19:

     Eddie Muller

    Dmitri Matheny 

     

    Cycle Dogs, Seattle

     
     
    No Bones Beach Club, Seattle
    SEATTLE COCKTAIL WEEK, March 2019

    MOUNTAINEERING CLUB, Seattle


     
     
     
     
     

     

     

     

     
     
     
     


    BELL HARBOR INTERNATIONAL CONVENTION CENTER, March 9, 2019



    SNEAKY TIKI, Seattle: 
     

     


    SHELTER LOUNGE BALLARD, Seattle:


    You may also dig:








    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017




    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 



















    BOOKS:



    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!
    BUY


    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books




    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY
    THE "MENTAL CASE FILES":
    VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

     VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE LIZARD FOR HIRE
    BUY



    VIC VALENTINE: SPACE CADET
    BUY





    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY





    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 


    NOW AVAILABLE! 
    DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE, an anthology dedicated to the late, great writer and stellar human being William E. Wallace, featuring many contemporary crime fiction stars plus a brand new Vic Valentine story, "Beat This," by yours truly. Proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in Bill's name. More info and purchase links here.


    My short story FISH OUT OF WATER 
    (my idea for a fourth Creature from the Black Lagoon movie)
    is included in this anthology
    Order hardcover, paperback and eBook from Amazon


    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 



    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!



    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 
    for which I also wrote the foreword:


    My short story 
    BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology

  6. Of my many strange but true life stories that are too violent for me, the one surrounding this little cult movie from 1980 is the strangest and truest. Hard to sum it up in one post and I really hope I don't embarrass my dear friend Linda Kerridge, but she knows what a profound impact this experience had on me, even though none of it makes sense. The best things in life don't, though.

    Basically, I started hanging out with this young, up-and-coming actor named Mickey Rourke soon after I arrived in L.A. in 1979, age 16. He was 26 or so, and a real puppy dog at the time. Hard to believe now, maybe, but trust me, he was a real sweetheart before fame fucked him up. I had just dropped out of high school  and was working full time to support myself as a really bad busboy at Neiman-Marcus in Beverly Hills (where I met another lifelong actor friend, Jon Lindstrom, who was the handsomest waiter in the world at that time, long before Jon Hamm). One night my father's friend Sandra Seacat, now a famous acting coach, and her daughter Greta who was my age and who I'd known since we were wee tykes, picked me up to take me out for dinner after my shift. In the backseat of their car was this guy Mickey, whom Sandra was dating at the time, and he was also her student. Mick and I hit it off immediately since we both loved Elvis along with other common interests and sensibilities. Right away he felt like the big brother I never had, though truthfully I never actually wanted one.


    Anyway, then, like now, I was a lone wolf by nature and really didn't like to socialize more than absolutely necessary so I didn't see Mickey on a regular basis until after I saw his bit part in this flick "Fade to Black," which I wound up watching like 20 times in theaters (back then I usually watched newly released movies only twice, and I mean EVERY MOVIE TWICE, since I was so lonely and bored; I do remember seeing Dawn of the Dead seven nights in a row, because I was horrified I couldn't believe it). My repeat viewings of this movie weren't because I happened to know the guy who played the bully that picked on Dennis Christopher's character Eric Binford, who was a movie geek just like me. It was because for some reason I was completely mesmerized by the Marilyn Monroe lookalike that Eric likewise becomes obsessed with and stalks, played by Australian model Linda Kerridge, who had a spread in Playboy to promote the movie. I wasn't the stalker type, and I knew I was way out of my league since I couldn't even talk to girls back then, much less court international models, but I began hanging out with Mickey in the hopes I'd just meet Linda and figure out why I was so inexplicably but irresistibly drawn to her ethereal (from my innocently warped perspective) presence on Earth.



    Thing is, Mick had no scenes with her so he didn't know her personally, but he did set up a meeting with the film's director, Vernon Zimmerman, at Duke's Coffee Shop in West Hollywood. Mickey was engaged to actress Debra Feuer at the time, and we became close too. She was like the big sister I never wanted, too. We hung out often at the Pink Turtle in the Beverly Wilshire, among my favorite memories. They got hitched while I was down in Houston staying with my mother's family that had raised me till I was six after being taken away from my schizo mother in New York before I wound up being raised by my father's next wife in a right wing guru cult in New Jersey. Okay, I'm going off script again, but it's all related.



    In Houston I was again bussing tables (my specialty, though I was lousy) at the Beef 'n' Barrel, while working on my first novel, Chumpy Walnut, and saving enough money to move back to L.A. It's another long story why I left to begin with and this is already a long story being unduly condensed for your sake.

    My father Robert Viharo at Mickey's wedding to Debra, 1981

    ANYhow, two years go by, I wind up going back and forth between Houston and L.A. twice, till finally I settled in Westwood, where I had initially lived with my father, briefly, until I got my own pad in Beverly Hills at age 17. Yeah, poor kid. I saw Fade to Black another ten times or so over this period, channeling Linda as my muse, quite without her consent or knowledge.



    Los Angeles, 1982, springtime. I'd just returned from Houston for the second and final time. One day I decided to go see a double bill of "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" and "How To Marry a Millionaire" at one of my favorite theaters, the Nuart, across the street from one of my favorite restaurants, Dolores' on Santa Monica Boulevard in West L.A. I always had the eggplant Florentine and I freaking loved their house roll and salad dressing. I'd sit there for hours reading Damon Runyon stories, pretending I was in New York in the 40s.



    So I'm sitting there in a nearly empty theater and two gals sit directly and I mean DIRECTLY in front of me. One turned out to be Daryl Hannah but I didn't care then and still don't.



    The other was Linda Kerridge. I happened to catch a glimpse of her face in the screen light just before she plopped down and inadvertently obstructed my view of the screen. Like I cared. Who needed a virtual likeness of Marilyn Monroe? My own real life movie goddess had manifested right in front of me like magic, out of nowhere, long after I'd given up on ever actually meeting her. After all my efforts, she came to me.



    Because this extremely unlikely twist of fate called for it, I summoned up the will power (cough) to introduce myself as her biggest fan, after she'd gotten wind I was right behind her and moved down a few seats.

    I actually followed her out of the theater following the two movies and asked her for her phone number. I'd never, ever done that before, even with regular girls. But I couldn't let her get away and risk never seeing her again. I had to be sure this was all real.




    I called her a few times and finally she agreed to meet me. I think the first time was at Duke's, since she lived in the Tropicana Hotel. We also went to Ship's Coffee Shop in Westwood once. I LOVED Ship's and Westwood was my frequent haunt in those days. My oldest friend Greg Goyo Vargas and I often hung out there, too.

    Here's more irony:

    My favorite sequence in Fade to Black was and remains when Eric Binford is wandering around Westwood Village after "Marilyn" accidentally stands him up for a planned rendezvous at Ship's Coffee Shop, an icon now long gone. The scene is a perfectly preserved time capsule of that era in my life. I saw ever single movie on every single marquee he passes. In fact, one of them is Hide In Plain Sight, co-starring...wait for it...Robert Viharo. I took Linda to see Creepshow at the Westwood Village Theater once. In retrospect that seems like an odd selection. I was an odd dude. Unlike now.



    Lots happened after that, like I introduced HER to Mickey and Debra. Linda introduced me to her friend, actress Tessa Richarde, who was in another of my favorite movies of the time which I won't mention. It's so great to be in touch with Tessa again, too!

    Linda and Tessa, back in the day

    Linda also wound up starring in a one-act play of mine called "A Wrong Turn at Albuquerque," which was performed once at the Actor's Studio in West Hollywood, directed by my father. It's included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3, which features Chumpy Walnut and short stories of mine from the past few decades.



    Lavender Blonde, which I initially wrote in 1987 but revised for publication in 2011, is my very liberal reimagining of the Mickey/Linda era in L.A., now featured in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Vol. 2.

    Two standout memories: Halloween, 1982, when Linda, Mickey, Debra, Sean Penn and his girlfriend at the time Pamela Springsteen, Lance Henriksen, Lenny Termo, and me at the wheel dressed like Marlon Brando in The Wild One or at least that's what Mickey told me when he decked me out in leather like a male hustler drove around Hollywood and crashed a party in the Hills before landing at Larry Parker's (asshole!) Diner in Beverly Hills. Oh yeah: we were all packed into the 1964 white Thunderbird with dice painted on the doors that Mickey had just given me as a present...TRUE. (Full story and more including how I nearly accidentally killed Tom Waits with that same car in this blog post.

    “Whaddya gonna do ya little baby? Huh? You little shithead!”
    When Mick, Debra and I met with Vernon Zimmerman at Duke’s, they recounted this scene which they had to reshoot early in the morning after a long night because Mickey got up too soon after Dennis Christopher’s deranged cowboy gunned him down, rising from the dead with the camera still rolling, before Vernon called “cut”!. Mick was very sheepish about it. “I could tell you were upset with me,” he said to Vernon like a little boy.

    Mickey and Lance Henriksen used to pretend we were in prison and I was their little blond chicken and they’d chase me to the bathroom at Mick’s place. One night they took my 18 year old cherry ass to pick up a hooker on Hollywood Boulevard. One was at our car window negotiating as I trembled in the back seat. Finally I said I’d just settle for a blowjob. Lance said “Ooo, he’s nasty!” and Mick cracked up and I lost my boner and that was that. I've run into Lance twice at conventions over the past decade or so, most recently in Seattle, and he totally remembers!

    This excerpt from Jeff M. Giordano's full length documentary about my so-called career The Thrill Is Gone sums up those L.A. days...



    Yet another lurid, vivid Technicolor memory was when Linda and I ran into Sean Penn and his girlfriend (or wife) at the time, Madonna, at Musso and Frank's of Hollywood. It was when they were filming Shanghai Surprise so Sean had jet black Elvis hair and Madonna was all platinum. My "date" put her to shame, though.



    Later, after my first real girlfriend Nancy and I broke up and I spent a year living in a notorious residential hotel called the Condor in North Beach, San Francisco, right above Carol Doda, Linda and I were housemates in Mickey's house in Mandeville Canyon during the summer of 1986. She was very sweet, gracious and patient with me. It was obvious I was still intensely smitten without any rational reason or encouragement but I never had the nerve, courage or even desire to "make a move." She was truly an angel to me. But my naive youthful projections of her as a larger-than-life emblem of all my romantic dreams never allowed me to feel totally comfortable around her. I was a crazy kid. Unlike now.


    Photo I found in Mickey's office which he left me keep. My old residence the Hotel Europa on the corner of Columbus and Broadway in North Beach, San Francisco looms ironically and iconically in the background.


    I realize this makes me sound like John Hinckley but I was totally harmless. Just self-delusional. I was so nervous around girls I actually wrote this waitress at the Good Earth an entire book of poems instead of just asking her out on a date. We wound up living together for over a year. 

    That was Nancy.




    Fast forward through many more crappy jobs and doomed romances and the Parkway and Thrillville and Christian Slater and everything else that happened to me over three decades: a year or so ago I reconnected with Linda via this thing called "Facebook." I haven't seen her in person since 1986, after leaving L.A. for the final time to settle in the Bay Area, where I met my true love. We now live in Seattle, I walk dogs for a living, still write books, and I've never been happier.




    Adding to this supreme contentment is that all these years later, Linda is still in my life. It must mean something, but I no longer try to figure this stuff out. I just let the magic run its course. I am so proud and honored to call her my friend.

     So now you can see why I never imagined my ultimate destiny as a Seattle dog walker. It made more sense Christian Slater would wind up making that movie of my book. That aside, there’s really nothing I’d change. I’m perfectly content with how my life worked out, all things considered.

    My beloved adopted home of Seattle.


    Peace. Cheers.

     

     
     

    My 28th annual Elvis Christmas card

    Our 21st Christmas card as a couple!


    Next: VIC VALENTINE, SPACE CADET!


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    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017




    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 

















    BOOKS:


    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!
    BUY


    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books




    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY
    THE "MENTAL CASE FILES":
    VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

     VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE LIZARD FOR HIRE
    BUY



    VIC VALENTINE: SPACE CADET
    BUY





    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY




    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 


    NOW AVAILABLE! 
    DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE, an anthology dedicated to the late, great writer and stellar human being William E. Wallace, featuring many contemporary crime fiction stars plus a brand new Vic Valentine story, "Beat This," by yours truly. Proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in Bill's name. More info and purchase links here.


    My short story FISH OUT OF WATER 
    (my idea for a fourth Creature from the Black Lagoon movie)
    is included in this anthology
    Order hardcover, paperback and eBook from Amazon


    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 



    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!



    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 
    for which I also wrote the foreword:


    My short story 
    BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology



  7. Well, I did it again. Wrote a book, that is. It's something I've been doing compulsively for nearly forty years now on a semi-regular basis. Though I've long since given up on commercial success, I find that the mere act of writing fiction is so spiritually and creatively rewarding I no longer care. I have no ambition or agenda as an author. Unless I'm asked to contribute to a short story anthology - which, flatteringly enough, happens now and then - I'm content issuing my work under my own imprint, Thrillville Press, putting out into the world, and then resuming my regular life as a proud husband, cat daddy, and dog walker. 



    BUY
    VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE FOR HIRE

    Print Edition

    Kindle Edition


    Will the Thrill: Dog Walker For Hire
    Groot and me
    Pearl and me
    Roxi, Hypatia, Gracie (I watch rabbits and cats, too)


    It's hard to describe this novel, but then that's my specialty. I've completely eschewed any attempt to conform to any particular, easily identifiable, marketable genre, instead essentially creating my own, obscure niche, which I dub "Vihorror": a surrealistic mix of noir, horror, and erotica, with dashes of my own personal experiences, blended into one strong, sick, stylized literary cocktail.

    I'm very proud of it. I talk more about this jazz with Marietta Miles in this recent interview, if interested.

    Essentially, I've placed Vic Valentine, protagonist of my more conventional books like Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me and Hard-boiled Heart, into the moody, mysterious realms of my favorite of my own books, A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge. I would categorize it as "Phantasmagoric Noir." It's basically a fever dream inside Vic's head. Nothing is what it seems, or maybe it is, but since Vic is your guide, you'll be as lost as he is.

    The only "mystery" is the one concerning the biggest puzzle of all, Life itself. I'm not sure who my target audience is with this jazz, other than myself. Basically, I just write what I feel like writing, and if someone else digs it, that's cool, if not, that's cool, too.

    The title comes from my old "Will the Thrill" business card. My old friend Johnny Johnston Trujillo suggested it.





    Here is the back cover blurb for Lounge Lizard For Hire, which picks up a little while after the last one, Vic Valentine: International Man of Misery, ended:

    MY VOODOO VALENTINE? Vic Valentine has finally retired from the private eye racket. And since his beautiful new bi-sexual, black-belt burlesque-dancer bride, Ava Margarita Valentina Valdez Valentine, who may also be a witch or a vampire or both, has a mysterious and possibly nefarious source of seemingly endless wealth, he no longer walks dogs for income, either. Vic is finally living the life of his wildest dreams! Until the Universe sucker-punches him yet again, and it suddenly melts into a noir nightmare…

    First a Yakuza hitman from Mrs. Valentine’s past shows up in Seattle with a score to settle. She conures demons from another dimension to not only protect them, but spice up their sex life, too (or hers, anyway). The ghost of Vic’s dead friend Doc Schlock still haunts him, literally. His old pal Ivar the sailor statue starts talking, and walking. And then there’s that doppelgänger of a young Vic suddenly popping up here and there around town, setting Vic up for a showdown with his younger self.

    But no matter what happens next, the show must go on.

    I should add Will the Thrill, Monica Tiki Goddess, Chumpy Walnut, and Christian Slater all have cameos. Yeah. It's like that.

    Here is the progression of the spectacular front and back artwork. My frequent collaborator Matt Brown (who illustrated the storyboards for Christian Slater's long-suffering, ill-fated movie adaptation of Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me) created the front cover art, and my man Dyer Wilk designed the spine and back. I provided images for inspiration, and they took it from there...

    Monica and me, 2005














    Here are some promo memes I've been posting on social media:























    Mai Tai Time in The Thrillpad, cheers







    Celebrating the publication with Dmitri Methany at Tula's Jazz Club in Seattle, 
    both of which have cameos in the book!


    The official launch party:

     
     
     


    Toasting Elvis on the 41st anniversary of his "disappearance," 8/16/18



    Zodiac Supper Club, Tacoma


    The Fern Room, Tacoma, WA


     


    Besides walking dogs and writing, I've been having fun making Gifs!

    Will the Thrill and Monica Tiki Goddess, Talkin Pictures with Jan Wahl, 1998:














    My Pop, Robert Viharo, in Bare Knuckles (1977)









    My father Robert Viharo in Hide In Plain Sight (1981), with James Caan, who also directed. Here you can see when Jimmy suddenly squeezes the old man's nuts below frame. Watch for the wince...







    Pop in Return to Macon County (1975; he's the crazy cop)




    Monica and me in the infamous "foot fetish" segment of HBO's Real Sex (2001)











    Monica and me in the 2002 French doc, Viva Las Vegas?





    Monica and me in the Thrillville Pulp Fiction collection book trailer shot at Forbidden Island Tiki Lounge in Alameda, CA, 2011:




    Original book trailer for The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, shot and edited by Christopher Sorrenti (2011)


    In other news, I was kicked off Facebook for a week after I posted a link to an Etsy page selling this centerfold of my father's ex-wife, Jeane Manson. So I bought it out of spite. 




    Facebook is still afraid of nipples.




    Exiled to Mars!


    Autumn cocktails at the University of Washington Club:
     
     


    CHEERS!



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    BACHELOR PAD MAGAZINE #45 
    featuring my regular movie column, this issue: Mummies!





    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017




    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 




    A WRONG TURN AT ALBUQUERQUE (1982) and THE IN-BETWEENERS (1987)




    PEOPLE BUG ME (2013)










    BOOKS:


    New! VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books


    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!


    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY




    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 


    NOW AVAILABLE! 
    DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE, an anthology dedicated to the late, great writer and stellar human being William E. Wallace, featuring many contemporary crime fiction stars plus a brand new Vic Valentine story, "Beat This," by yours truly. Proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in Bill's name. More info and purchase links here.






    My short story FISH OUT OF WATER 
    (an idea for a fourth Creature from the Black Lagoon movie)
    is included in this anthology
    COMING NOVEMBER 2018


    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 



    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!





    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 
    for which I also wrote the foreword:



    My short story 
    BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology






  8. I just turned 55 years old this past April 2. That in itself sounds weird, at least to me, but I celebrated in a place both wonderful and strange: Twin Peaks. Well, the locations where much of the original and recent series were filmed, about a half hour from our home in the towns of Snoqualmie and North Bend. In my last blog, I already wrote about how much David Lynch and his work, particularly The Return, as it's called, impact my life and work, only because I relate so much to his artistic vision.


    However, it's not exactly my own artistic prism, because everyone has their own unique perspective on life and the Universe. We waste a lot of time wondering, debating, qualifying, denying and investigating the truth of our existence and surroundings, without any solid conclusions, unless you decide to simply have faith in the doctrine or philosophy that best suits your needs, desires, and interests.


    Images by Joseph N Frezza



    At this stage of my life, which is definitely on the downslope of whatever time I'm allotted, statistically and mathematically speaking, I've lost all sense of nostalgia and ambition. I've always wanted to be a successful writer, since I was a kid, but I've pretty much given up on that goal. I mean the success part, at least commercially. But I can no more give up writing than I can eating. It's my spiritual sustenance, my own "religion," if you will. Or even if you won't. That's just how it is.

    Twin Peaks, Elvis, The Rat Pack. These have been my "religions" over the years. But my writing is really my source of faith. And my wife and cats. I love living in Seattle, city of my dreams. My marriage and my home are the only dreams of mine that have been realized, via both magical happenstance and proactive efforts.


    Rosey and me
    Orzo and me

    Bocce and me
    Zissou and me
    Monica, Dali and Mango


    Now, frankly, I'm tired. Physically and emotionally. I spend my weekdays walking dogs, mostly via Rover.com, an occupation I never even considered, but which has turned out to be the healthiest alternative to my lifetime literary aspirations, in terms of mental, spiritual, as well as physical well-being. And spiritual. I post a lot of pictures on my Instagram account of not only my canine flowers, but my immediate environment, which is literally bursting with natural beauty.






    Bocce and Orzo
    Jozy

    Rosey
    Wilhelmina

    Zissou
    Jean Luc
    Luna
    Jezebel

    Ceiba
    Lola



    Harvey and Parker

    Roxi


    I love my clients!

    And of course we have our own kids at home...


    Tiki

    Googie

    Monica and I are now full vegans after an evolving journey of empathy for fellow sentient beings.
     Viva Tacoma
    "The Impossible Burger" at RAM, University Village






    My ongoing battle with depression, most of which is organically sourced due to circumstances rather than chemicals, though there is a tragic history of mental illness in my family, is a daily reality I deal with, like many. But thanks to my smartest decisions - mainly marrying Monica and moving to the Pacific Northwest - I feel happier than ever. Mostly. Like I said, it's a day-by-day journey, but I'm glad I have such beautiful companions on my path, wherever it leads.




    Also, I've started a new novel, titled VIC VALENTINE: LOUNGE LIZARD FOR HIRE.  The title comes from my old "Will the Thrill" business card. Much more about it in my next blog, whenever that happens, but here's the synopsis so far:


    MY VOODOO VALENTINE? Vic Valentine has finally retired from the private eye racket. And since his beautiful new black belt burlesque dancer bride, Ava Margarita Valentina Valdez Valentine, who may also be a witch or a vampire or both, has a mysterious and possibly nefarious source of seemingly endless wealth, he no longer walks dogs for income, either. He’s a happily kept middle-aged man. But he’s bored. So he decides to start a cheesy cabaret act, since though he has no talents to speak of, his supernaturally sensuous wife can sing torch songs while stripping. It’s a surprise hit! Vic is finally living the life of his wildest dreams! Until the Universe sucker punches him yet again, and it’s suddenly melts into a noir nightmare…

    First a Yakuza hitman from Mrs. Valentine’s past shows up in Seattle with a score to settle. She conures demons from another dimension to not only protect them, but spice up their sex life, too (or hers, anyway). The ghost of Vic’s dead friend Doc Schlock still haunts him, literally. His old pal Ivar the sailor statue starts talking, and walking. And then there’s that doppelgänger of a young Vic suddenly popping up here and there around town, setting Vic up for a showdown with his younger self…


    But no matter what happens, the show must go on. 

    This is a follow up to Vic Valentine: International Man of Misery, largely inspired by my trip to Costa Rica last year, which was a turning point in a series that just keeps going despite the fact I thought Hard-boiled Heart was the swansong, because it's so much fun for me to write, frankly, especially now that I've triumphed over much of my grief. Now I've basically merged the relatively realistic sensibilities of Vic's original universe with that of my non-Vic work, which frankly is closer to my brain, if not my heart. The results are over-the-top, psychotronic, free-flowing, and liberating. I hope the readers feel the same, but if not, c'est la vie. I do this primarily for the sake of my own sanity now.

    Promo art by Mike Fyles for my favorite of my own novels, as a birthday present!
    He also provided the art for the Thrillville Press edition.

    Speaking of French, I had hoped to set the next Vic book in Paris, but I could only do that if I traveled there and experienced it first hand, soaking up authentic ambience while scouting "locations." The reason I even imagined this could be possible was because a prominent French publisher had expressed interest in translating my work, and part of the deal is an all-expenses paid book tour if accepted. But after a year and a half, he decided my stuff was too "gonzo" for that market, just like back here. Oh well. That's been the story of my professional life, which is why I'm resigned, if not content, with just going it alone. The only person that hasn't let me down vis a vis my so-called career is me, so I'm the only one I trust with it from now on.


    And besides Thrillville, there's always Twin Peaks...


    With Kyle MacLachlan, 2016
    With Sherilyn Fenn, 2015


    With Sheryl Lee, 2015
    Add caption

    With Harry Goaz and Kimmy Robertson, Crypticon Seattle, 5/5/18



    My autographed copy of David Lynch's book


     
    At the "real" Palmer residence, Everett, WA
    Here are some images from our Easter trip to "Twin Peaks" (Snoqualmie/North Bend) to celebrate. We stayed overnight at the Salish Lodge and Resort ("The Great Northern") and I woke up there on my actual birthday. I had a non-vegan breakfast at Twede's Cafe (The Double R) before heading back home to walk dogs, because my business is my pleasure. Fans will recognize the locations:


















    "The Dale Cooper": a damn fine cocktail!







    "I've just awoken from a strange dream..."

    My birthday presents from Monica




    "Twin Peaks High School" (Mount Si High)




    That night, I had a totally vegan birthday dinner prepared by my wonderful wife, including a Mai Tai, while wearing my new Bachelor Pad Magazine T-shirt, which just happened to arrive that same day.




    I actually started my birthday weekend the previous Friday with a tasting at the University of Washington Club:



    NO BONES BEACH CLUB, Vegan Tiki Bar, Seattle

    The Octopus Bar, Seattle
    Benefit for RAICES at Navy Strength, Seattle, 7/9/19


    GETTING RE-ANIMATED AT CRYPTICON SEATTLE, May 5, 2018

    With Barbara Crampton


    With Jeffrey Combs


    With Eugene "Big Daddy" Clark




    SEATTLE CENTER, June 27, 2018
     
     
     
     
     


    Other than drinking and watching movies at home, I'm still hosting Noir at the Bar Seattle seasonally, which is a good excuse to leave my house other than dog-walking, plus it's a cool networking resource, hobnobbing with fellow writers at one of our favorite local joints, the Fireside Room at Hotel Sorrento.

     


    CELEBRATING 17 YEARS OF MARRIAGE
    Plum Vegan Bistro, Seattle, 5/31/18





    That's all for now. Thanks for reading. Cheers.


    You may also dig:


    WILL THE THRILL'S 50 FAVORITE SCI-FI MOVIES

    THRILLVILLE TURNS 20


     Issue #44 of Bachelor Pad Magazine featuring my regular movie column, 
    this one about that sophisticated savage, Tarzan, cheers! 






    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017


    Original book trailer for The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, shot and edited by Christopher Sorrenti (2011)



    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 




    A WRONG TURN AT ALBUQUERQUE (1982) and THE IN-BETWEENERS (1987)




    PEOPLE BUG ME (2013)










    BOOKS:


    New! VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books


    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!


    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY




    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 




    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 



    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!





    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 
    for which I also wrote the foreword:



    My short story 
    BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology







  9. This is my first update in this space in a while. The fact is I don't have anything newsworthy to report. My last three blogs covered my trip to Costa Rica, where I was an instructor at the first Writers' Retreat of San Buenas; the 20th Anniversary of Thrillville, my "brand name," such as it is; detailing its evolution from a live show to promote one of my novels to a virtual headquarters for my own pulp fiction press; and the publication of the new Vic Valentine novel, Vic Valentine: International Man of Misery.


    And that's all I had for 2017. Of course, if you follow this blog regularly, and ever bother to check back, you notice that after posting a blog, I continue to tack on pictures of various places I've visited (mostly bars in Seattle) with Monica, Tiki Goddess, who is currently working on her dissertation, having been officially declared a PhC at the University of Washington School of Drama. 

    Since it's a new year, I thought I'd start fresh with a new blog, even though there is nothing particularly momentous worth documenting. No plans, no prospects. I often feel like I'm living through an extended epilogue of a story whose main plot has already unfolded.



    I recently put these thoughts into the form of a poem, mentally composed while walking a dog, my full-time occupation these days.


    Poem Composed While Walking a Dog

    Lately, when I think of my life,

    The sorrow and the strife, 
    
It's always in the past tense,

    Which doesn't make sense,

    Since death, which I fear,

    Doesn't feel near;

    Instead, it's like awaking from a dream,

    Having shed all schemes,

    Content to drift through time,

    Seduced by the sublime.


    This may sound depressing, but I'm not really depressed. Pensive, reflective, peacefully resigned, but not morose. I've dealt with that already, in the best way I know how. I'm happily married to the love of my life, and I finally live in my favorite city. Though it's not artistically fulfilling, I sincerely enjoy my dog-walking gig. The canine company and ambient therapy are soothing to my soul, and I get a lot of exercise, which is good for a cat my age, especially one with a sedentary lifestyle and occupation otherwise. 

    I turn 55 this April 2. I plan to spend my birthday in my favorite place on Earth, the real Twin Peaks a half hour or so from our house. My favorite filmmaker David Lynch's recent revival of what was already one of my all-time favorite TV shows has become both my all-time favorite movie and all-time favorite series.  Naturally I relate and respond most to its dreamy ambience, inter-dimensional surrealism, supernatural soundscape, haunting imagery, quirky characters, and darkly magical mood, augmented by an electrically eclectic soundtrack, but this time around, its stark portrayal of how the passage of time changes, damages, and emancipates us in different, unexpected ways deeply resonates within my very core.


    With Kyle MacLachlan, 2016
    With Sherilyn Fenn, 2015


    With Sheryl Lee, 2015

    My autographed copy of David Lynch's book

     A DAY IN "TWIN PEAKS"
    12/17/15



    Twede's Cafe: damn fine coffee!



    Snoqualmie River
     The "Mill" and the "Sheriff's Station"
     
     


    Snoqualmie Falls/Salish Lodge:
    "The Dale Cooper"
     



    Fire, dog walk with me.
    Dougie and me! Scarecrow Video

    At this point in my life, when it seems my ship has sailed without me for the final time, leaving me serenely stranded on my own little island with my Tiki Goddess and cats, I feel like I'm staring into an endlessly empty horizon - beautiful, but barren. I feel I've exhausted all avenues to commercial success, taken advantage of every break that came my way, the dice rolled snake eyes, and so here I am, after decades of desperate dream-chasing: a middle-aged dog walker in Seattle, with absolutely no ambition or nostalgia bogging me down. The lack of pressure feels liberating, but sometimes the absence of anticipation makes me listless.


    So this particular blog entry - which may very well be my only one this year - will skip any focus on recent major developments, since there haven't been any, and at the moment, there are none just beyond the bend. Instead it will simply serve as a space to post about my dates with my wife, with whom I just celebrated twenty years as a couple (and best friends). We actually first met when I picked her out of the audience to spin the big wheel at the original Parkway Theater on May 31, 1997, before my screening of Jailhouse Rock (we were married exactly four years later, at the Cal-Neva in North Lake Tahoe). But we officially met when she showed up at my Elvis B-Day party at the Ivy Room in Albany, CA, on January 8, 1998. The rest, as the saying goes, is history.



    So if nothing else substantial ever happens to me, I will consider my personal life a smashing success beyond my wildest dreams. And really, Love is all that matters. I continue to write with no expectations whatsoever. It's not a career. It's my response to Life itself.  And that's something I am compelled to do, in order to survive with my sanity intact. I'm not currently working on any new projects, but that could change suddenly. Or not. Either way, I'm very proud of the body of work that already exists out in the world. I have nothing to add right now. It speaks for itself, and for me.

    As usual, I'll add stuff to this blog as it happens. Whatever it happens to be.

    Cheers and Peace.


    Celebrating 20 years as a couple, Alchemy, West Seattle, 1/8/18




    Nightcap at Talarico's, West Seattle



    Valentine's cocktails at Gainsbourgh, Seattle


    Cruelty-free pizza! Pizza Pi, Seattle


    Daniel's Broiler, Seattle
    Hosting Noir at the Bar Seattle, 1/11/18



    BACHELOR PAD MAGAZINE #43 featuring my movie column about Mamie Van Doren


    You may also dig:





    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.



    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017


    Original book trailer for The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, shot and edited by Christopher Sorrenti (2011)



    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015

    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 




    A WRONG TURN AT ALBUQUERQUE (1982) and THE IN-BETWEENERS (1987)




    PEOPLE BUG ME (2013)










    BOOKS:


    New! VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books


    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!


    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY




    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 




    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 



    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!





    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 
    for which I also wrote the foreword:



    My short story 
    BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology




  10. When the last Vic Valentine novel Hard-boiled Heart was published by Gutter Books in December, 2015, I really thought that would be it for the character. It had been two decades since the publication of the first in the series, Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me, by Wild Card Press in 1995 (reissued by Gutter in 2013). I never thought it wold go this far, but a famous fan's completely unexpected, unsolicited interest sustained the character far past his initial expiration date.

    Hard-boiled Heart was inspired by my experiences with Christian Slater as we tired to get a green light for his option of Love Stories, which he'd owned since 2001. In 2012 he flew me out to Miami to do some location scouting, I was given a contract to co-write the new script, and...the rest is history. Literally.


    So after coming so close we could touch it (again, literally), the project was put back on ice. Suffice it is to say that the writing of Hard-boiled Heart was a laborious, cathartic process. My aim was to give the character a fitting finale, then put him to bed. For good.

    Flash forward past my following book, the erotic horror novella Things I Do When I'm Awake, inspired by the tragic life of my schizophrenic mother, now deceased, published via my own imprint Thrillville Press (itself a long, arduous story), and I was ready to seriously lighten up.

    Some of you may know I've been making a living as a full-time dog walker the last couple of years. This factored into Things I Do When I'm Awake, and I figured that would be the extent of that source of life inspiration.

    But then in January of this year, I was flown to Costa Rica to instruct workshops at the first Writers' Retreat of San Buenas. 

    I couldn't stop thinking of putting Vic in these situations: a dog walker who winds up in Costa Rica. And so I began writing the seventh installment of a series I thought was over. But instead, I'm already thinking about the next one. They're just too much fun to write. Whatever happens to me I make happen to Vic, though with a lot more sex, violence, and action.

    Vic is my fictional doppelganger is the same way "Will the Thrill" was my fabricated public persona for many years as the front man for my cult movie cabaret "Thrillville," the source of my "brand name."  Since it's written in the first person, I assume many readers assume it's all autobiographical. But the truth is, I only mine major life events for the storylines for all my books, which basically write themselves once I set it all up. Vic Valentine is no different. We certainly have a lot in common in terms of our tastes in vintage pop cultural and women, but there are also aspects of his behavior and attitude where I purposely diverge sharply from my own sensibilities. The purpose here is Art for entertainment's sake, not self-indulgent self-therapy at the reader's expense (literally!).

    Largely due to all the hoopla surrounding the long-simmering but ultimately fruitless movie project, Vic Valentine has become my signature creation, even though I consider my other books more representative of myself as an author.

    With International Man of Misery, I ditched any pretense of conventional, market-driven "crime," "mystery," or "noir" and went full-on pulp. This meant combining disparate elements into a genre hybrid, which is my specialty, and what I'm most comfortable creating.

    Being an indie author/publisher allows me the freedom to experiment and basically do whatever the hell I want, because who is going to stop me? I write mainly to please myself, but with a keen awareness of the potential audience, whom I wish to enthrall, and never insult. I have a small, loyal cult following, and trust me, I always keep you in mind, too.

    Bottom line: this is exactly the kind of book I wanted and needed to produce at this particular juncture in my life, and I'm very, very proud of it. I hope you enjoy it as well.


    Here is the evolution of Vic Valentine in print:

    1995:
    Artwork by Tim Racer


    My 2011 Lulu editions of the sequels, all written in the mid-90s:
    Artwork by Rich Black
    Artwork by Rick Lucey

    2013:
    Artwork by Matt Brown

    2015:
    Artwork by Scooter Harris

    2016:
    Artwork by Matt Brown

    and now...


    2017:
    Front cover art by Matt Brown; back cover art and design by Dyer Wilk

    Synopsis:
    Vic Valentine, Private Eye is back in business—as a dog walker. A really, really bad one. While drunk in a dive bar one rainy Seattle night, one of his canine clients tied up outside goes missing. The twisted trail leads him from Vancouver to Minneapolis to Houston to Mexico City and then all the way down to Costa Rica. Along the way he encounters nefarious businessmen, dangerous drug dealers, tropical cocktails, flesh-eating zombies, voracious vampire women, and a luscious Latina bombshell that may or may not turn out to be the long lost love of his life…

    Join Vic in his frantic search for the missing pooch, exotic sexual escapades, voluptuous voodoo vengeance, and a quest for the meaning of Life in a dog-eat-dog world.

    BUY:

    Print Edition

    Kindle


    This vintage instrumental is stuck in Vic's head throughout the book, because it suits the frenetic pace of the wild narrative:



    My initial inspirations for the front cover:


    Raquel Welch

    Matt Brown's realization of my concept:








    Next, Dyer Wilk's text-free back cover art, 
    based on some images I  supplied for visual reference....







    Ironically, Dyer designed that back cover without realizing that this tableau is in my home office:



    But I absent-mindedly sent Dyer the wrong file when he was putting together the full wraparound, so this wound up being the front cover for the print edition, which is still perfect, despite the differences in shirt pattern and font for my byline. I used Matt's finalized cover for the Kindle edition, so now I have both. Likewise, I used Rich Black's artwork for my OOP edition of Fate Is My Pimp/Romance Takes a Raincheck and Rick Lucey's artwork for I Lost My Heart in Hollywood/Diary of the Dick for the Kindle versions, once the comprehensive, better-edited, definitive Thrillville Press omnibus The Vic Valentine Classic Case Files was published last year.



    I wanted some "tiki" in there, so since Matt added a tiki design to the shirt, the big tiki mug on the back cover would've seemed overkill in print, anyway. The original cover is more Miami Vice, and that's appropriate, too. So it worked out by accident, as many things do in life.

    Here are the memes I posted via social media to promote the book in advance, giving you an idea of the over-the-top irony involved in its conception, and the rather radical difference in direction I'm taking the series:

























    I have no idea what's next for Vic, or for me, but who does? Onward! Cheers.




    Swedish pancakes at The Swedish Club, Seattle
    Serious Pie and Biscuit Westlake, Seattle
    The Daily Grill, Seattle
    The Lodge, Seattle 
    The Teacher's Lounge, Seattle




    University of Washington Club


    Costa's Greek Restaurant on University Ave, Seattle 
    Ivar's Salmon House


     Happy Halloween from The Thrillpad!


     Tacoma Cabana



    Celebrating Monica passing her final exam to become an official doctoral candidate!
     


    With Baby Doe of the Devil-Ettes, Unicorn, Seattle, 11/9/17

    With El VezUnicorn, Seattle, 11/9/17



    Vito's, Seattle


    Final night of Seattle's legendary 13 Coins at its original location
    Pacific Grill, Tacoma, 11/14/17

    University of WA Club

    No Bones Beach Club, Seattle - our vegan tiki bar!


    "A Charlie Brown Christmas" by the Jose Gonzales Trio, Seattle Center, 12/10/17





    Hosting Noir at the Bar Seattle, Thursday, October 12 at Hotel Sorrento,
    which will also be the Release Part for "Vic Valentine: International Man of Misery:



    Pix from the book release party for "Vic Valentine: International Man of Misery,"
    Noir at the Bar Seattle, Hotel Sorrento, 10/12/17:


     
     
     
     

    Next Noir at the Bar Seattle, January 11, 2018:



    WEEKEND IN ATLANTA, GA
    November 17-19, 2017
     


    Trader Vic's:
     
     Mai Tai
    Zombie



    The Walking Dead...

    The Vortex, Little Five Points
     


    South City Kitchen, Buckhead
    Manhattan
     Old Fashioned


    Monica and I contributed essays for two of the pieces for this exhibit at San Francisco State University





    My 26th annual Elvis Christmas card designed for 42inc

     A White Christmas in Seattle


    YOU MAY ALSO DIG:






    "Thrillville," my official theme song by The Moon-Rays
    "Director's cut" of Jeff M. Giordanos' documentary THE THRILL IS GONE(2014)

    Podcast interview by Steven Gomez for The Noir Factory, August 2017


    Interview conducted by Drive-In Radio host Alec Cizak, October 24, 2017,
    broadcast from Missoula, Montana.


    Original book trailer for The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, shot and edited by Christopher Sorrenti (2011)



    Promoting the first edition of A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge on San Francisco's Creepy KOFY Movietime, 2010

    Book trailer for Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room,
    animated by Vincent Cortez (2011)


    Reading from Love Stories Are Too Violent For Me (2014)

    Live reading of my short story "Escape from Thrillville" (2014, included in The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection, Volume 3)


    Book trailer for It Came from Hangar 18 (2012)


    Interview with Scott Fulks and me for Tiki Oasis TV, August 2015


    Issue #41 of Bachelor Pad Magazine featuring my column on werewolf movies now available in digital download or POD formats

    Bachelor Pad Magazine #42 features my movie column covering the career of Dean Martin!



    ONLINE SHORT FICTION 

















    BOOKS:


    New! VIC VALENTINE: INTERNATIONAL MAN OF MISERY
    BUY

    HARD-BOILED HEART from Gutter Books


    LOVE STORIES ARE TOO VIOLENT FOR ME from Gutter Books!


    THE VIC VALENTINE CLASSIC CASE FILES:
    Fate Is My Pimp, Romance Takes a Rain Check, I Lost My Heart in Hollywood, Diary of a Dick
    BUY




    My erotic horror noir novella THINGS I DO WHEN I'M AWAKE 
    BUY


    THE THRILLVILLE PULP FICTION COLLECTION
    from Thrillville Press

    VOLUME ONE: A Mermaid Drowns in the Midnight Lounge and
    Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room
    BUY
    VOLUME TWO: Lavender Blonde and Down a Dark Alley
    BUY

    VOLUME THREE: Chumpy Walnut and Other Stories
    BUY

    THE SPACE NEEDLER'S INTERGALACTIC BAR GUIDE 
    IT CAME FROM HANGAR 18 




    My story HOT NIGHT AT HINKY DINKS is included in this cocktail-themed flash fiction anthology 



    New anthology of Christmas horror stories from Coffin Hop Press,
    including my story THAT'S A WRAP, now on sale!





    My story MEANTIME is included in this bitchin' anthology, 
    for which I also wrote the foreword:



    My short story 
    BEHIND THE BAR is included in this anthology


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