Name              Peter Jacob Streitz

Age                 63        (I’m pretty sure . . . even using a calculator)

Where are you from                         Upstate New York  (aka, Nowhere New York)

A little about your self `ie your education Family life etc  

Questions regarding education have always been a tad tricky for me. My problem is I regard learning as counterproductive to thought. There was no better illustration of this fact than my combined SAT scores that were slightly less than the single Math score of digit counting chimpanzee at the Bronx Zoo. Yet, even with that as a truth, I was heavily influenced by the philosophers of the ages, although, not always in the manner they might have liked. For instance, in the sixth grade I spent a week in detention for openly reading Wilhelm Reich’s THE FUNCTION OF THE ORGASM mistakenly thinking it was something I actually knew about: THE FUNCTION OF THE ORGANISM.

After the old biddies at the school had their fun at my expense I returned to a family life that was like a group of manic strangers all competing for the same job—in a world more cutthroat than reality. My beloved and saintly mother liked it that way because with an absentee landlord for a father (plus an extended family that nobody would want to speak of) she dreaded dying without her kids being a bunch of hard-asses to live their life exactly as she deemed fit, regardless of the life-situations foisted upon them.

Then there was the fact I was cursed with being a gifted athlete. So instead of being sickly and wondrously whiling away my days in bed reading Proust, I was forced to become an All-American boy obligated to surrendering my soul to a bunch of failed and angry jocks. So being an absolute iconoclast I starred in basketball—a team sport I could practice alone. That led me to a full athletic scholarships to a school I lasted two weeks at, before returning to my hometown bakery to fry donuts from 2AM to 6AM and then work supplying tons of metal handles to lady-piece-part-workers at the Quackenbush Nutcracker Factory until noon.

Eventually I wound-up at Boston University—and from what one of my drug addled professors claimed—graduated with the only degree ever given in Alternative Education. Of course, that catapulted me into the vast industrial complex of computers and\or a repo man at a collection agency.



Fiona: Tell us your latest news?

My book of poetry HELLFIRES SHAKE THE BLUES just got published by Crimson Cloak Publishing.


Fiona: When and why did you begin writing?

Actually the person I didn’t really know always wanted to be a writer. But the person I did know became a corporate man in the computer industry. Then some thirty years ago, the person I didn’t know viciously attacked the person I did know—in a life and death struggle—forcing the known into act of professional suicide . . . only to be saved and resurrected in the world of the unknown. i.e. authorship


Fiona: When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I’ve never really considered myself a writer. What I am is a blasphemous iconoclastic non-connector who can only communicate via the written word without being either jailed or committed.


Fiona: What inspired you to write your first book?

It was either my confessional novel PAST OZ . . . or a daily penance of six billion Hail Mary’s.


Fiona: Do you have a specific writing style?

Ouroboros. My sentences are paragraphs that eat their own tails. They usually start out with fangs bared, striking at some caring flesh, before twisting back—devouring itself as food for thought.



Fiona: How did you come up with the title?

My book of poetry HELLFIRES SHAKE THE BLUES is verse that kills the poetic flies of fantasy with the cannonballs from the street.

My novel PAST OZ is about—where we all end up in our lives—when we’ve had enough life experience to actually decide the direction we have always wanted (consciously or subconsciously) to go regardless of  our inherited race, creed, color, coincidences and\or circumstances . . . both fortunate or unfortunate. PAST OZ is one man’s break from what he and those in his sphere, most solemnly, believe to be his lot in life. And going PAST OZ is that second, self-determined, shot at life regardless of all prevailing wisdoms within his (or ones) current world.


Fiona: Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Yes, as mentioned, to go PAST OZ is to forget everything you’ve ever been brainwashed to believe (your ethnic identity is a good starting point) and with absolutely no regard for reality—shout to the high heaven’s the one true thing you’ve always wanted to be . . . and then immediately become a roadie with a rock and roll band and die trying to be a star.

As for HELLFIRES SHAKE THE BLUES I’m hoping that we might resurrect ourselves by using our own brains as fuels for our funeral pyres to completely incinerate the smoke and mirrors of what we believe to be our cremated selves.


Fiona: How much of the book is realistic?

If you mean by realistic, true, then every word is a lie.


Fiona: Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

Right, like the answer to this isn’t a lawsuit in the making, or at the very least, a paternity suit! So to protect the guilty—I’ll narcissistically claim . . . it’s all about me.


Fiona: What books have most influenced your life most? a mentor?

HOW TO TALK DIRTY AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE, the bible according to Lenny Bruce. Mentor, my wife.


Fiona: What book are you reading now?

THE EDGE OF LOVE (The love letters of Dylan Thomas) I mean ya gott’a love any twenty year old who’s writing to confess his love to his new love while telling her about being totally wasted for an entire week while repeatedly banging his friend’s “lank redmouthed” fiancée in front of said friend yet due to his love for said new love this should have absolutely no bearing on their love. Wow, nirvana!


Fiona: Are there any new authors that have grasped your interest?

You mean besides, Bill O’Reilly?


Fiona: What are your current projects?

Another book of poetry.


Fiona: Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members.

Can’t, guilty by association comes into play here. Oh wait, my beloved publisher Carly McCracken. A name Mark Twain would die for, and she comes from Missouri taboot.


Fiona: Do you see writing as a career?

If you mean by career . . . is writing the only truly productive thing I do then the answer is yes. If you mean is writing what I do for a living and\or income—then the answer is no. HouseHusbandry is my formal occupation. My employer is a female business executive.


Fiona: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

Like most authors–every word.


Fiona: Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?

I wanted the tips of my typing fingers to burn white hot like J.D. Salinger’s did in THE CATCHER IN THE RYE . . . as Holden Caulfield exhausted both their lives exposing all the phonies of the world.



Fiona: Can you share a little of your current work with us?

As with all my poetry there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it—other than trumpeting a clarion call against the intellectual psychosis currently poisoning a person’s distinct existence . . . especially in America.


Fiona: Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Other than being socially dyslexic, I’d have to say no.


Fiona: Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?

Harry Crews. It’s like reading the exploits of Ted Bundy only with literary chops.


Fiona: Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)?

Other than the out’a body experiences I have, when discussing my work, with the barflies at my Local, no.


Fiona: Who designed the covers?

The witches and warlocks at Crimson Cloak Publishing.


Fiona: What was the hardest part of writing your book?

Listening to the truth of my goldbricking.


Fiona: Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?

That when you’re delusional enough to actually think your work will lead to a universal conversation . . . all you hear is crickets.


Fiona: Do you have any advice for other writers?

Forget writing classes, as they might palate your loneliness, but they’ll do nothing for your writing—like living the life of a writer.


Fiona: Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

It’s an eternal thank-you for giving me a human’s most precious gift, their time.



Fiona: Do you remember the first book you read?

I think it was the BOOK OF THE DEAD, but I couldn’t swear to it.



Fiona: What makes you laugh/cry?




Fiona: Is there one person pass or present you would meet and why?

Einstein.  I’d ask the old dust mop why he could find Black Holes but not darn his socks?



Fiona: What do you want written on your head stone and why ?

Nothing written, just a young beauty in a short skirt . . . for obvious reasons.



Fiona: Other than writing do you have any hobbies ?

Yes, avoiding work.



Fiona: What TV shows/films do you enjoy watching?

Anything that the Brits aren’t in . . . which pretty much means I never turn on the telly.



Fiona: Favorite foods / Colors/ Music

Reese cups. Color, money.   National Anthems.



Fiona: If you were not a writer what else would you like to have done?

Be a Pope.



Fiona: Do you have a blog/website? If so what is it?

No. Tried to, but being a techno-Neanderthal the blogs are too enlightened and the websites run rancid with spiders. Yet, Zuckerface did allow me to open a FB page, although he’d often thrown me in the penalty box (a forced time out) for befriending total strangers (Yet I showed him, I cleaned house by defriending the thousands of strangers and now I only friend strangers who friend me first). Oh, and my dear-dear editor also set up an Author’s page for me that I can read but not understand.