Mortal Sin in Transit

An introduction to the literary work of Peter Marra

 

 

Always running towards a new experience, trying to grab an enlightenment and some satisfaction. The path of the crimes is recounted in my literature: Peep-o-Rama, Approximate Lovers, Vanished Faces, and Random Crucifixions. Always wanting more. Always banging my head against the wall. The Thrills, Chills, Dolls and Anguish Quartet.

 

The trip started in the mid 60’s. Starting to get weary of obedience, tricky-sneaky thoughts were rattling around in the back of my pre-adolescent brain. In 1965 my dad took me to Coney Island, Brooklyn’s fun land which at the time had become an old discarded jaded whore, beckoning the faithful with shaky fingers and devilish dervish eyes. This is where I had my first exposure to the under-belly of this great land of ours. We ended up at the carousel. The ride operator was a biker type, longish greasy hair, dirty denim vest, sleeveless shirt, pale white skin and glassy eyes. He sported a bowie knife on his belt and he was eating a meatball hero. I noticed that he had some holes in the underside of his arms. My dad explained that these were track marks and it meant he was a drug addict. Drugs, addiction, I had no idea what pops was talking about, but it sent bolts of what I would later identify as lust up my spine. The ride on the wooden horses was a ball, but not as enjoyable as my first brush with potential criminal activities.

 

My childhood was spent hiding from people because I didn’t fit in, taking refuge in fantasies, watching horror movies and reading a great deal. As I got older and was allowed to take the subway, I ventured from Brooklyn to Manhattan where I discovered poetry readings, arthouse films, museums and Times Square.

 

When I reached 19 I got the fuck out of Gravesend, Brooklyn and 12 years of Catholic school and headed to NYC’s East Village where I felt I could breathe and let my desires flourish. I lived on 1st avenue and 1st street with a woman with whom I was romantically involved and who didn’t mind my trips to Times Square (or, The Deuce). These forays weren’t desperate searches for depravity or for anonymous sex, but rather a retreat to the forbidden zone. There were things to study and learn.

 

My trips to the artistic events were usually accompanied by a friend or two, but my trips to The Deuce were solitary ventures, as if I was visiting a clandestine lover. I prowled around the XXX houses, grindhouses and peepshows where I met and socialized with the outer edges of society: the beautiful, the depraved and the damned performers in the Adult Entertainment world. Most of these thespians were wonderful, kind and intelligent people, making their way in an alternate universe because they couldn’t deal with the hypocrisy of straight society. I hung out with a few of the luminaries of the adult film world. They accepted me.

 

The XXX fare and grindhouse offerings were a brilliant transgressive artform feeding my mind. I saw many of the films that are now considered the Golden Age of Porn as well as all the exploitation film classics. A favorite haunt was the Avon 7 located at 724 7th Avenue which hosted extreme film and live performances and of course Show World – the supermarket of erotic entertainment. Doing my best to record these experiences, my writing entered the realm of the surreal and transgressive. My first book of poetry, Peep-O-Rama Sins of the Go-Go Girls, dealt with this world and the people in it. I attempted to depict the humanity and pain of the people I encountered, and of myself. It’s a trip through the underbelly of NYC from the 70’s to the 80’s.

 

The works which followed continued the journey into the bizarre and extreme. approximate lovers (downtown materialaktion) was a dissection of relationships as I ventured into the worlds of monogamy and marriage. Vanished Faces (a performance of occult infections) is a further examination of lives gone sour, each poem is depicted as an inhabitant of a decaying SRO hotel (places which I frequented off and on), souls trapped, never known but always haunted. This is the most graphic of the four poetry books and is also illustrated by 4 graphic artists / writers from the fringe. The characters are drawn from the humans I encountered and interacted with in these skid row habitats. The latest work, Random Crucifixions Obsessions Dolls and Maniac Cameras is a trip through the lives of souls trying to survive in this decaying United States.

 

Also included is an excerpt from my prose work-in-progress, A Naked Kiss from a Broken Doll. It is a novel written in the style of the Italian giallo film. Like the giallo film it is a circuitous mystery populated with psycho-murderers and twisted wanton women in distress. I am attempting to bring the style to a new level through a surrealistic approach.

 

All my writing deals with sex and violence because that’s what is real to me and it’s a fact of everyday life, especially in America, but these are not ends in themselves. There are also images of beauty and occasional salvation. All the characters are hybrids of real people. My goal is to wake the reader up and hope they examine their own life in the process, maybe get an occasional epiphany.

 

Enjoy this smorgasbord. Some new work is included to continue the exploration of the twisted path.