Tag Archives: carlene bauer

Interview with Carlene Bauer

Carlene Bauer is the author of the memoir Not That Kind of Girl, which is one of the better books I have read in a while, if for no other reason than I found a lot of similarities between Carlene’s life of being raised in evangelical Christianity and my own. Every now and then I write her and tell her how great I think she is and she humors me with a kind response.

Why did you decide to write a memoir?

Had this been 1994 or 1985 I would have done what many people before me had done and written a thinly veiled, autobiographical coming-of-age novel. But I felt that would be kind of a cop-out. Memoir, to me, seemed like Prozac Nation or The Glass Castle – books I would never read. And I thought, “What if I could try and write a book that would read more like a novel?”

And I also wanted to write a book that could engage the reader not because of the salacious details but because of the strength of myself as a character and the writing. I didn’t think of the book as a memoir but I knew the publishing house would have to call it that because that’s what happens now. I just saw my book as a very long personal essay.

Have you ever read someone’s memoir and then met them?

Yes. One person I was just getting to be friendly with, so I knew about her before I read her book. I also just recently interviewed Joyce Carol Oates and she’s publishing a memoir about losing her husband.

When you met them, how were they different than what you expected based on reading their memoirs?

With Joyce Carol Oates, she’s small and has a soft speaking voice and a shy demeanor, but the writing can pummel you. So that was the disconnect. With the other woman I’m thinking of there was pretty much a one-to-one correlation between her writing and her person. I think with memoir it’s easier to find the one-to-one correlation but with fiction it’s much easier to find a disparity with a voice on the page and the voice of the person. I think most people who are ferocious in any art form are going to be ferocious in person.

Have you ever had a muse that has influenced your writing or do you currently have one?

*laughs* Karl Lagerfeld is my muse.

Who’s that?

He’s this crazy, German fashion designer. He designs Chanel. But I do like his outrageousness. But hmm…I don’t know. I mean, Jesus?

*laughs*

For serious. You know, when I wrote the book I had lots of people in mind. But now I would say lots of people from the 19th century. Currently I would even include Neko Case because the book I’m writing is a love story and it’s very hard for me to say emotional things and I think that happens more often in music so I’m trying to do something that most people do in music – make something emotional without being sentimental or saccharine. So I’ll think a lot of her songs.

With the first book, I think it was predictably Sylvia Plath as a muse. I know it’s unfashionable and stupid, but nobody talks about what a good writer she is. She had a lot of control and whatever she did she did on purpose. I think nowadays our writing gets bigger and bigger and bigger and we don’t try and make every sentence count. You know who else –

Jesus?

You know, even though I don’t know what I believe I do think often of him. I guess in some way I have a religious project and I would like to think he’s hovering somewhere in the background.

Even though you don’t believe in him?

Yeah. It’s like trying to reclaim some sort of religious act from the Right.

What is the book you’re working on right now?

It’s an epistolary novel. It’s told entirely through letters. It’s set in the early 60s and it’s about a poet and fiction writer who become friends and then fall in love but can’t quite make it work. He suffers from manic depression and she is repressed. They’re both Catholic and he eventually becomes lapsed and this creates conflict and the novel follows their ins and outs.

It’s based loosely on Robert Lowell and Flannery O’Connor who were friends but never fell in love (that we know of). I thought it would be interesting to create a story where you have a male character who is very effusive, generous, passionate and sort of delusional and the woman is colder and reticent and have those people be in conflict all the time.

Are there certain subjects you get embarrassed talking about in front of your parents?

Not embarrassed but I’ve learned not to talk to them about politics. I’ve learned through the last two elections that it is just not worth it.

But you can talk about things such as your sex life in front of them?

I have. They’re actually very sympathetic and compassionate so I lucked out there.

If you had to ever kill someone, could you do it?

*gasp* You know I‘ve actually thought about that.

Worst segue ever.

No. Best segue ever. I like to think I’d be able to. But I hope I don’t ever have to find out.

Dogs or cats or both and –

Dogs. Dogs. Dogs.

Why?

Because they’re more emotionally available. I like the space they take up and I like their faces. I’ve had to cat sit a couple of times and the litter box thing is terrible and they’re temperamental and they don’t really need you.

What was your favorite trip overseas?

There was one I took with an ex-boyfriend to Barcelona and London that was really lovely. But I don’t know. I can’t pick! When I graduated from graduate school and my sister graduated from college we took ourselves abroad in the grand manner. We went to London, Paris, Florence and Rome for two and a half weeks and that was great because I’d never done it. Oxford had this weird summer program and I did that about ten years ago, so I stayed there for a month and then went to Paris with a friend.

Do you have a favorite out of those?

Well, I’m an anglophile, so I’ve loved whatever time I’ve spent in London. I saw Sleater-Kinney play in London five years ago. There were these Bob Hoskins types standing in the back in this club in Camden drinking Foster’s tall boys. And I said to my boyfriend at the time, “What the hell are these guys doing here?” but they were into it and they approved. I forgot – I went to see Belle & Sebastian in 1999 or 2000 at a festival in the South of England and I saw them and Teenage Fanclub and Sleater-Kinney. But the thing about Sleater-Kinney when they played abroad – I felt that we were exporting this and people were just eating it up. It was a complete rock show. It had nothing to do with who they were as women although I admit I took great pleasure that they were girls kicking ass.

Barcelona is beautiful and I had read Homage to Catalonia before I went and – Oh! George Orwell! He’s often a muse. Anyway, that city is very old in ways that New York and Paris isn’t sometimes. It felt medieval and dusty and untamed and also very alive.

Without giving the obvious answer, what’s something you used to believe that you don’t believe in anymore?

I should say New York. I should have had that beaten the hell out of me by now.

You still believe in it?

Yeah. I feel ashamed. There are too many people with money coming in cleaning everything up and then people want to raze Coney Island to the ground. It’s total liberal arts major complaints that are totally unoriginal but still deeply held about money and history.

Hmm. Also, I might not believe in certain bands anymore.

Such as?

It was Belle & Sebastian a couple years ago.

And maybe I don’t believe in the gym right now. I have gone a lot in my life and I find it useful but the thought of it is kind of soul crushing.

What was the last good film you saw in the theater?

I did like “The Social Network.” I thought it was well done and Jesse Eisenberg did a good job. That might have been the last thing I saw in the theater. That’s kind of embarrassing.

Eh, not really. I only go when I can pull the double feature so it’s not too often for me either.

Okay.

What pops into your mind when I mention the word “Mormons?”

Oh, lots of things. White shirts, ties, and nameplates. Upstate New York.

Why upstate New York?

Joseph Smith was living in upstate New York when he had his visions.

Oh right.

Preparedness – what do they call those kits they make for the impending apocalypse? It’s got a lot of freeze-dried food, too. I wrote a piece on Mormon comedy for the NY Times Magazine a long time ago. So I did a lot of research into Mormons. I actually have sympathy for them in a weird way. I understand the problems and the weirdness and all that. When talking to them I felt that sometimes they were misunderstood. There’s a lot of sexism in Mormonism. They may even be more sexist than evangelicals but it also seems they may also be a little less uptight than evangelicals.

What kind of influence has Soren Kierkegaard had on your life?

Oh. A lot, because he was a depressed person who was a Christian. I knew who he was but I didn’t read up on him until I moved to New York. The line on him is that he’s a poet but he’s also a philosopher. So there’s logic and poetry. There’s a tendency to preach while also trying to purport logic and poetry so as an act of writing I find this incredibly compelling.

It’s beautiful but it also clears the way for existentialism and very clear directives, which I think if you’re depressed, it can be helpful to have. Like the idea that if you despair, despairing over something is worse than despairing of something. So these small shifts with just a preposition shift you into a whole other category of despair and the idea that you move from the aesthetical to the ethical to the religious – that there is a forward motion and a hierarchy of modes – I find this really great. It’s exciting. Just the grappling with faith constantly. And also the fact that you can’t prove it, you just have to believe it. That idea is incredibly helpful. You can’t prove it; you have to just have faith. But this is also hard at times to believe. Like, “That’s it?”

I love his explanation of Abraham and Isaac and how that doesn’t make any sense at all. Abraham goes through this absurd, immoral, illogical thing that breaks all the norms of what we’re taught to believe and THAT gets credited to him as faith and the faith becomes righteousness and the righteousness gets him into heaven. So you have to do something that goes against everything you’ve ever been taught – and that gets you into heaven?

Does that bother you?

I think it used to but now I don’t really give a shit.

Did it bother you because you felt as though it was going to legitimize acts of violence?

No, not that, but that it was promoting the idea that you can’t have a logical basis for your faith. And if you can’t have a logical basis for your faith, how do you defend it against “secular America” or secular society? And then you can’t and you don’t.

But if you just come at it and admit it doesn’t make any sense and it’s not supposed to make sense then it just ends up becoming this thing where you personally believe that this person was right and it’s strictly a matter of faith. I see that with the Christian Scientists I know. It makes no sense but you just accept the idea that this woman received a divine inspiration from God. And that’s totally weird to me because the evidence points otherwise.

Yeah. Thinking about the Mormons it’s the same thing. The only difference between Joseph Smith and Jesus is that Jesus has two thousand years on him. In some ways there might not be a difference. I mean, there is, but there isn’t.

Yeah, totally. So my last question: what is one of the most important things you’ve learned from living in New York City?

There is no meritocracy. Poor me. I’ve learned that.

This is sort of trite but I am often surprised how kind New Yorkers are. I think people don’t realize that. You hear things about New York – “it’ll be a teeming crack den of iniquity and caviar and heroin!” But I was really surprised how easy it was to find friends that are good people.


New York City is big and it is evil

New York City is big and it is evil and you will get lost there. It will eat you up and spit you out. You will get mugged or murdered or raped. The people are sinful and will steer you to paths of unrighteousness.

It’s thoughts such as these that entered my mind as I made my way to NYC the other week. Along with the concern that getting up to go pee three times the previous night meant I had lost all control of my bladder and would start wetting the bed and need adult diapers, I wondered, who had taught me this; these negative notions of the Big Apple? I reckoned it was some leftover feelings from my days growing up in suburban Indiana. No doubt someone (probably my parents or pastor or some other adult figure I looked up to) had warned me of the dangers the five boroughs possessed, based most likely on their own phobias of tall buildings or foreigners or perhaps just some story they heard. “I know a guy who knows a guy who got mugged in NYC once. Took his shoes and everything.” Poor guy. And while it has been bad in the past NYC is not the same place it was even in the early 90s. As I’ve been there numerous times, so allow me to recollect my experiences in the Big Apple.

1985 – I was six years old when we went as a family this first time. I was in first grade and remember we went out for Thanksgiving and the Macy’s Day Parade. I was pulled out of first grade a few days early to go on the trip which I recall made me feel triumphant against the tyranny that was learning numbers and letters and their proper usage. Fuck you letter A and number 7! I’m going to see a giant inflatable version of Garfield and freeze on the sidewalks with a bunch of people whose heads I can’t see over! However, much of this trip – like many portions of my youth – remains abstracted in my head or else I get parts of it confused with my next trip to NYC.

1989 – I was ten years old for this trip and do believe it was also for Thanksgiving and once again we went to the Macy’s Day Parade. I recall it was cold and I complained a lot. I was a real pain in the ass for my parents and seem to think I did a lot of complaining as a child. Perhaps some beginning to my delightful anxieties and neuroses? It’s hard to say but I know that the trip also had some pretty rewarding experiences such as going to see Les Miserables on Broadway. We were staying with my aunt’s sister (extended family) at her posh condo on the west side of Central Park along with my cousins. My parents had a really nice condo on 5th Avenue my aunt’s sister had set them up with. I have no idea what this woman did for her work but she was pretty well off and I wasn’t one to complain when it came to getting us 8th row seats to Les Miserables or a table at Tavern on the Green. I don’t think I entirely understood or appreciated the importance of such experiences; all I knew is I had to dress up nice but at that time in my life I also had to dress up to go to Olive Garden. I have since learned that in the scope of high society events, Broadway show > Olive Garden.

I also got to play with my cousins and we spent a lot of time fraternizing with my aunt’s sister’s mink stole. Looking back it seems kind of creepy and gross, but at the time we all thought it was pretty funny to imagine it as this inanimate pet that talked to us. It didn’t help that the jaw of the animal acted as a clasp but also meant we could make it talk. And the stories it could tell! It was the kind of ridiculousness that could only come out of the mouths and minds of pre-teens. In other words, I can’t remember any of it.

1999 – This was a really big trip to NYC for me. I went with a group of people from my (Christian) college and a couple other (Christian) colleges. I was somehow allowed to drive a 15 passenger van filled with luggage and other college students – we made it through the night driving through Northern Pennsylvania which is one of the greatest stretches of interstate if you’re a big fan of pine trees. Oh Conifers! Your beauty is redundant along Interstate 80! We were spending our Spring break on a missions trip to the city, learning how missions work was different in a big city as compared to a developing nation, which is usually what most people think of when they hear about missions and missionaries. The trip was also an excuse to sightsee the city and I got to see many things there that I probably wouldn’t have necessarily seen otherwise. Not to mention we got the hook-up with a good hotel in mid-town Manhattan and since it was a “missions” trip people gave money to us to help fund it. Christians are suckers like that. Good cause my ass! I got my picture taken in front of that den of debauchery known as CBGBs but I suppose I atoned for that act by visiting the American Bible Society (which is interesting if you’re into that sort of thing – lots of Bibles from all ages and parts of the world).

Punker than you. Spring Break ’99!

Other things that spring to mind from this trip include the following: getting to take a look at the floor of the NY Stock Exchange where capitalism reigns; going to the top of the Empire State Building; seeing the statue of the giant bull down by Wall Street (and yes, I did touch his enormous balls); playing with a dog and baby at the same time; volunteering at a soup kitchen where they gave us old Michael Jackson shirts (for a tour that never happened) as a thank you; and seeing the police take care of a murder scene in the sand at Brighton Beach. About that last one: in order to better understand the breadth of cultures in NYC, we went out to Brighton Beach, a Russian Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn. The guide for our trip asked us to pair off with people and go look around and see what we noticed that made Brighton Beach unique. My friend Sara and I started walking down the actual beach and noticed an ambulance back on the road. We then noticed a park ranger’s vehicle and a bunch of cops and what I assumed to be plainclothes cops standing around something by the water. Amazingly we were allowed to get fairly close – less than 50 feet – and then we saw the black body bag and the shovels spiked into the mound of sand that had accumulated next to the hole on the beach. Needless to say we had an interesting story to tell when we met back up with our group. In my mind I’ve just assumed it was a hit by the Russian mob, if only because it makes my story even more badass.

Me, a baby and a dog. Just like I said.

In preparation for this trip, I remember inducing myself into numerous panic attacks (which was my habit at the time as well as making myself so sick I would throw up) but looking back it was a remarkable trip with lots of special experiences. Meeting a bunch of guys with HIV and AIDS who lived together in a group home and yet were able to keep positive attitudes about life was pretty amazing. So was getting to see the Stonewall Inn, where the modern gay rights movement started in the late 1960s, although I really only understood and appreciated its importance many years later.

Our whole crew along with some new friends from the group home.

2001 – Yes, I, along with millions of Americans have made the mistake of taking Amtrak, our nation’s intercity passenger rail service. In my mind it constantly stands as the crippled brother to Europe’s far superior train system. Travel the rails around America! Live the bohemian lifestyle and meet interesting people. It sounds nice in theory but as long as it has to pull over on its shitty rail system to make way for commercial trains carrying coal and automobiles, it ain’t gonna get nowhere fast. And the people can occasionally be intriguing but they are also the “single-serving friends” as Tyler Durden calls them in “Fight Club”.

The path to NYC is also quite ridiculous – it does a roundabout route when you’re coming from Northern Indiana wherein it goes through upstate New York and then down the Hudson River. All in all, this trip is akin to being stuck in some sort of purgatory where you can’t sleep unless you have a sleeping car, which just adds to the astronomical price that Amtrak already costs. The sleep you are able to gather in a normal passenger train car is done in a slightly inclined state in 30-60 minute increments whereupon you wake up, look out the window and don’t recognize anything and drift off into a state of sleep that makes sleeping on an airplane seem like a comfy night’s rest in a king-sized bed.

Digging into an old journal I find that the Amtrak also served to inspire my writing skills to new heights, including such memorable passages as this: “I’m not tired enough to go to sleep, but I don’t know what else to do. Ugh. It’s days like this that kill me, but I think the fat, bloated body next to me shows that death mistakenly nailed the wrong guy.” Good work, 22-year-old Kurt. You’re on your way to being the next Jack Kerouac.

But I digress. The purpose of this trip was to see my roommate from my senior semester (I say that because in an effort to get the hell out of college I graduated after the fall semester) who lived just north of NYC. I also wanted to meet up with a girl from my college with whom I had taken a liking and who had an internship at CMJ. We all met up and there was lots of awkward Christian sexual tension and I think on the whole the trip was a success although honestly I can’t remember a ton about it. My old roommate and I went to see Burning Airlines and Ex-Models at the Knitting Factory and just generally hung out. It was a long weekend trip over the 4th of July and the girl I was crushing on is now married and a librarian in Pennsylvania and has a kid. I win again.

Burning Airlines

2002 – This trip was highlighted with a battery of behavior best suited for a psychologist with the latest version of the DSM. In other words, it was GOOD TIMES! According to the journal I kept at the time, highlights included (with my present day comments in parenthesis and italics after each):

–Little cafes all over the place (I was living in Indiana – this was a novelty, as were taxi cabs and black people)
–Victory At Sea @ The Knitting Factory (I still love this band. It was really powerful stuff. I also remember The New Year [ex-Bedhead] played and they had like four guitarists playing at one point, to which I recall thinking – “that’s just an unnecessary amount of guitars”)
–Diane Cluck @ Pete’s Candy Store (I still love Diane Cluck. She’s amazing!)
–Visiting Tag Team Media & Soft Skull Press (I was still doing an online zine at the time and this was me schmoozing.)
–NYC Subway rides (Another novelty. I was like some sort of caveman or something.)
–Meeting lots of lesbians and Jews (Novelty meter off the charts!)
Lowlights:
–Fighting off anxiety attacks the whole time (I went to see “The Ring” while having an anxiety attack. This definitely wasn’t an antidote to the problem.)
–Coming home to this pathetic excuse of a life (Self-deprecation will get you everywhere in life, Kurt.)
–Driving alone (at least it went quick) (Interstate 80, I love yooouuuuu!)
–People asking me why I don’t a) live in the city b) go to school c) move out from my parents house (Oh anxiety and depression, you were like the one-stop shop for answers to everything that was wrong with my life at this time.)

2005 – I was on tour with Brazil (Indiana) as a roadie. We were touring with 3 (New York) and The Reason (Ontario) in June of 2005 and we stopped over in Brooklyn to play a show at North Six. North Six is a club on North Sixth Street in Brooklyn, hence its name. It’s also one of the hottest, most humid venues I’ve ever been in. Barely anyone showed up and I was only too interested in getting the hell out of there and cooling off. We went back to the drummer’s parents’ house in New Jersey where a fifteen year old tried to sell us pot and I pondered what I would have been like if I had grown up in Northern New Jersey. (Aaron, one of the guitarists for Brazil, suggested, “you’d probably be an asshole.” A sentiment with which I heartily agreed.)

2009 – I went to Queens for the first time in October of 2009 for a pop culture conference. I presented to about four people (including two other presenters) on my thesis topic of 1970s Christian scare films in the basement of a community college that was clearly a relic of some 1970s building project (and hadn’t been updated whatsoever since). It was depressing and I was only too happy to get out of there and back to Boston.

2010 – I have never walked at graduation at any of the educational institutions I’ve attended. I didn’t at high school, college or the first time I was in graduate school. This previous graduation was no different. It’s not that I’m not proud of my accomplishments – I suppose I am to some degree although I’ve never found school real challenging – I just never saw the point in sitting in the hot May/June weather listening to a speaker try and encourage me with my future endeavors. Big crowds, annoying groups, pomp and circumstances – I’d rather be anywhere else. So I figured I’d keep the tradition alive and skip this latest graduation (masters degree number two) and do something fun. Seeing as to how I hadn’t spent any substantial time in NYC in many years, I decided a long weekend trip was in order.

Alas, the vast majority of my friends I knew that used to live in NYC have long since vacated. So I lined up a hostel for one night and then would stay with a girl, Julie, I met through the couchsurfing website for two nights. The first night I was there I met up with Carlene Bauer, whose book, Not That Kind of Girl, I had read. It’s a memoir of her time growing up as an evangelical although she no longer considers herself part of that movement. It struck a chord with me and she had referred to the film A Thief In The Night that I had written about for my thesis. We met up in the city, had dinner and some really good conversation. And she paid for it, too, which was sweet of her.

Central Park, June 2010

The next day I did what I do best in big cities: wandered around. Eventually I made my way up to the free Friday night entry to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA). It started at 4pm and it was 3:30 by this time so I thought I’d get up there a few minutes early and get a good place in line. However, it appeared many people had that idea about a few hours before I did because the line stretched for two blocks.

Amazingly, MoMA had their shit together and once the doors opened things moved without a hitch. However, I do wish to report that the people working at MoMA had a look in their eyes that said, “We hate you” but which also might have been interpreted as “Human beings are an infestation that must be stopped.” Still, for any lover of art, making your way to MoMA is a requirement, free night or not (go on the free night – it’s free!) To be able to see classic Picasso, Monet and Van Gogh right there before you is nothing short of amazing. Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” is located at the MoMA and it was the star of a fairly star-studded cast (see what I did there? exactly – I overused the word star). Here is the portrait that adorns a plethora of postcards and posters and it’s there right in front of you. It’s like seeing Jesus in person, except historically verifiable.

The rest of the weekend consisted of hanging out with Julie, eating out, going to see “Breathless” in the theater, going to PS1 (MoMA’s contemporary art museum in Queens), staying out late at night and closing down bars and just generally holding on to my Al Burian acquired mantra that the weekend consist of me joining the “non stop party wagon.” And I didn’t even end up drunk. But there was that sweet bartender who called me babe but I thought she was calling me Dave. And there was the obnoxious dude at the hipster bar who assured the girls he was talking to that they wouldn’t know what club he was talking about where he liked to go dancing. In regards to that dancing, he told them, “When I go in (to dance), I go all the way in.” This was made even more humorous by the fact that he was wearing a polo shirt, wire-rim glasses and had a Jew-fro. He was about the most non-party guy you might expect to hear talking about partying and dancing. Needless to say, I didn’t let him join our non-stop party wagon. Saturday night Julie and her friend Kate and I went to a couple bars and I urinated in public.

In the end, however, I realized something great about New York City. It’s not perfect. Yes, it has that special spark to it that makes it beautiful, magical and amazing but it’s also a city of fuck ups and misfits. It has people who wouldn’t fit in many other places. The amount of people suffering from some degree of anxiety or depression is pretty staggering (based on my informal polls and conversations). Instead, the crowds stay put, their mental illnesses keeping them in a place that drives them crazier and crazier. Climbing up the walls. It’s been happening for decades there. Joey Ramone tried to get it across on his tunes. The Ramones’ poppy wall of sound akin to being a house band for “Happy Days” belies the harsh tales of wanting to be sedated or needing shock treatment to straighten out Joey’s brain. It wasn’t just him. The New York punk scene of the 1970s was filled with crazies. And today the city is still full of them. They crowd the sidewalks. And I’m not just talking about the guy who wears the footy pajamas during the day with aluminum foil on his head or the people asking for spare change. No, even the functioning people have a few screws loose. The greed of the broker on Wall Street so that he can buy that second or third house in the Hamptons is just as insane as the man yelling about an invisible Martian sitting on a trashcan that stole his soul.

The secret that’s not entirely known is that after a while, if you can survive in the city; if you can scrounge up the money to pay your rent and bills and food; if you don’t let the crowds tear you down; or the crush of the weight of millions of people to beat down your soul then you’ll realize as Carlene told me that in the end, if you live in New York long enough it’s all just “HBO and burritos.” To which I replied, “you can afford HBO?!”


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