Published by F10F Books
ISBN 9780615620541
(244 pages~5.25x8.25)
Copyright © 2010 Jim Lopez
Cover Design by Jim Lopez & BAM13


Abstracts of an American Pageant: Reality Principle of an Aphasic Metempsychosis

Perhaps this collection of transgressive abstracts is the liturgical confessions of a man whose life is snug on coin; nevertheless, he may have found but then abandoned love in Italy, only to return to a perfidious life in the United States, where his childhood memories revealed the deeper meaning of value. It's possible that his predisposition for freedom was in opposition to a relentless hysteria that tried to distort his concept of worth, so perhaps he killed a man and became a tosspot toastmaster honoring Crack Whores to remind himself that there were worse things he could be. Heroin may have slammed through his friends, who never overcame their addictions. Perhaps a DMT lover in a new found universe touched him as the pangs of aging surprised his trousers. Or, maybe, he simply joined the Shoe Shine Cowboy Express.

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Castro's Kitchen

Rubber Hose Real Estate

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Published by F10F Books
ISBN 978-0615896359
(108 pages ~ 5.5x8.5)
Copyright © Jim Lopez 2013
Cover Design by Jim Lopez

Maudlin Ballads: An Elegy Regarding the Death of Surrealism
wth 6 Illustrated Poems; 3 with backround illustrations by Stepahn Maich


“There’s a whisper of H.P. Lovecraft here. It’s not that the old questions are asked, or even that new answers are given. It’s that Lopez knows about these things. When you read him, let the candle burn long into the night – with luck, you’ll wake in a safer place. I did…”

                                                              ~Bill Gainer, The Fine Art of Poisoning

“In a world where love has to clear murderous private and public obstacles, Jim Lopez fights like a tiger for the human right to love. These ballads are victories for compassion and fragility."

~Andrei Codrescu, "Bibliodeath: My Archives"


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Published by F10F Books
ISBN 978-0615988399
(320 pages ~ 5.25x8)
Copyright © Jim Lopez 2013
Cover Design by Jim Lopez

SAY UNCLE : the Cedric Gilbride Story

Cedric Gilbride held a drunk in a head lock, pounding his face as they brawled in a cemetery next to his favorite bar.  When the wino bit Cedric in the gut he stuffed that son-of-bitch’s thumb in his mouth, bit it off and spit it in his face.

In this collection of interviews and essays I explore the nature of uncledom by dumpster diving into the mind of an unwanted, adolescent ward of the State of California, who grew into a bush dwelling, box car jumper, an artist of sorts, a lover of women, booze, drugs and animals alike, a Vietnam vet., a collector of a government nut check, and a reader and peddler of L.A. Free Press.

Cedric Gilbride, a man of tragedy, comedy and volatile unpredictability: the Cheeto Cat. 

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Excerpt from

The Dogs Got Hold of the Chicken! Missing Eggs & Ann Quinland's Thighs


Looking for a Publisher

Pieces of 8: Memoir of a Narco Society (1944-1985)
CUBA, Los Angeles, Cocaine, the FBI & the Last Dream of a Latchkey Kid
A True L.A. Story

This is the true story of growing up with the schizoid sensation of shame and pride for the career decisions that my father, Jaime Alberto Lopez, made. A Cuban who moved to the U.S., leaving behind his dream of becoming a medical doctor, Lopez found his life headed in an entirely different direction. In 1978, while working as the general manager of Hollywood Imports (car dealership), Lopez met pimp, "Bill Blass", and the two of them began using and dealing ounces and kilos until realizing cocaine's lucrative appeal. Lopez cleaned up and started dealing between 100-500 kilos of cocaine a month in the early 80's, selling to L.A. Drug Lord, Thomas "Tootie" Reese, and the mysterious Chinaman, David Chow. Then one day Lopez' lawyer, Ron Minkin, called him into his office, where he was was introduced to the FBI and strong-armed into becoming a spy in Cuba (Code Name: GOLDMAN; Lopez owned two jewelry stores in Los Angeles). Lopez moved in the company of Benicio Mendez of Muzo Emeralds (Columbia), Pablo Escobar, Carlos Lehder, Raul Castro (and other Cuban revolutionaries) and with diplomats from Ecuador and Panama. My father's life traversed the criminal world of Los Angeles, international espionage and poked its head in various celebrity circles. At the time, Los Angeles was fertile ground for cocaine suppliers. No one man or CIA controlled the drug market of Los Angeles.

Pieces of 8 chronicles the path into the drug world of Jaime Alberto Lopez, one of the many drug dealers, living the high life in Los Angeles during the late 70's-to-mid-80's, while simultaneously telling the story of the young Lopez growing up a drug addicted, latchkey kid in a small barrio of the East Los Angeles vicinity. CRIMOIR



Somewhere Between Wanda & Nancy: True Stories from Zoloft Graveyards

On a brick wall, outside the Glendale hospital, Nancy sat marveling at the expansiveness of nothing, which she tried dearly to avoid and had now finally succumbed to, paying totally obeisance in offering her mind completely to all that does not exists but is ever present. She had bartered with a nervous breakdown most of her life; however, she could never afford one. Who would feed, clothe and shelter her children, whom she never really wanted, but whose physical needs she could never abandon. She was bewitched by hard work, and tricked by the allure of desires, courted between wanting and needing, playing with an unbalanced measure of pleasure and agony, which preyed upon and devoured her dreams. The children she never wanted provided meaning, something she could latch her efforts onto. Life without her little girl and boy would negate any reasons she devised to get out of bed each morning so as to prove to the world her on value and worth. She would gladly sell her labor, even her body to a boss who was bold enough to run his hand up her skirt or brush across her breast.  She might even invite the impropriety as discretion never impressed itself upon her. 

Nancy had been taken away from her mother, Wanda (a Polish immigrant who busied her time shoplifting and who regularly found herself remanded to the care of a mental institution), when Nancy was but a mere infant Her father, Charles, a recent World War II veteran from Long Island, NY, and an Irishman, who found his greatest pleasure in boxcars and liquor, had been an orderly when Wanda was last a patient. It was in the janitorial closet of a nut house where Nancy Kathleen Gilbride was conceived, amongst the stench of mop water, dirty rags, cleaning products and the faint, dim light of a hanging light bulb.

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Except from Mama's Cancer Stick Follies



Filthy 10 Freeway

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