Good Or Shit: Man Diets And 'Crush Songs'

14 September 2014 | 10:21 am | Liz Galinovic

"Yes, I know. How I’m still not writing for Mills and Boon is a mystery."

Friday 13, April 2012, London.

“What completely amuses and concerns me is how utterly fickle I am. I am boy crazy. Constantly involved in love affairs with a variety of men and never bloody satisfied. One big bloody romance novel after another. Always searching for something I can’t seem to find and therefore constantly discarding things and people that are probably more than good for me. It’s ridiculous and kind of pathetic.”

That is a section taken from one of my last ever entries into The Notebooks That Bear Witness to my Life which, I started writing in 1997 when I was thirteen.

Before I packed all these books into a box to store in the shed at home – Don’t even think about it mum! You’ll only open them up on pages where I’m bitching about you and you won’t like that! – they took up an entire shelf in my room.

Don't miss a beat with our FREE daily newsletter

Despite years of carrying on like a hard-arse who doesn’t need or want anyone, in the main, these books are miserable Odes to Boys:

I love Blah Blah, but he doesn’t love me. Even though I’m with Blah Blah, I can’t help thinking about Blah Blah. I know I want to be with Blah Blah, but I’ll never really be over Blah Blah.

I used to dream that one day in the future, historians would find these books, put the scraps together and gain insight into the mind of the great Elizabeth Galinovic. Now I know they would probably tear out their eyes to save themselves the pain of having to analyse such tedious drivel. 

At some point I got so sick of myself, I stopped writing notebooks. Then, last week, on the eve of the release of Karen O’s (Yeah Yeah Yeahs) debut solo album, Crush Songs, I blew the dust off the cover of my final notebook and had a read.

According to the hand written note on Orzolek’s website, when she was 27 she “crushed a lot.” During this period in her life, she wrote and recorded a bunch of songs “in private”. “They are the soundtrack to what was an ever continuing LOVE CRUSADE.” And, she hopes they could keep me company on mine.

Oh Great True Love! Invented by the ancients, popularised in the Middle Ages, and furthered by Jane Austin! How even the hardiest of hearts crave your rapture!

Crush Songs is not unlike pages out of a diary. A series of vignettes – fifteen songs, some of them barely more than a minute long, and nothing like what we’ve heard from Orzolek and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs to date. It’s all lo-fi, minimalist, distorted acoustic guitar and breathy vocals that morph into smooth octaves and creep into roars, and end in squeals. The overall imperfection lends it a rough and raw edge. It aches, it agonises, it sounds exactly like a young girl sitting in a bedroom dreaming about love.

I was surprised to find those last notebook entries from April 2012 were – rather than carrying on with the I love Blah Blah’s – actually honest, analytical explorations posing the question “Why am I so boy crazy?”

It surprised me because, since April 2014, when boy crazy Liz raised her ugly head again, I’d been thinking about this a lot.

Is it because daddy didn’t love me? Is it an egoic exercise whereby I thrive on being wanted? Is it to distract myself from the all the hard work I need to do if I want to get to where I want to be? Or is it really, deep down, beneath all the flippant things I say about love, a LOVE CRUSADE? A vigorous campaign to find true love.

Off with the switch, love is soft, love's a fucking bitch, Karen O sings.

Being boy crazy is a bit like stress eating – it’s a desperate need to fill the void. And it most often means you’ll end up eating stuff that’s not good for you; whether it’s absolute junk, or something you know you’re allergic to, but can’t help yourself ‘cause it tastes soooo goood. 

So I decided to go on a Man Diet. I’m not concerned about fat and sugar and carbs, I’ve cut out emotional retards, arrogant wankers, boys who are lovely but younger than me, anyone who needs a mum more than a partner, and anyone scared of life, real human engagement, or me.

Do I really need another habit like you? Karen O croons.

I’m not saying starve. I’m saying focus on bettering you and don’t lose that focus for anything less than a mind-blowing storm.

I have said some hard-arse disconnected shit over the years. That men are like food – there are so many wonderful cuisines in the world, why would you only want to gorge on one. That relationships have an expiry date because we’re constantly evolving creatures so it’s inevitable that our wants and needs will change. That I don’t believe in The One, because I think it might be more The One Right Now, Until We Change Our Minds.

But behind all this, I invented a fictional Romanian or Hungarian (I’ll take either) archaeologist named Nicolai, who reads books, skateboards to work, ticks a whole heap of What I Want in a Man boxes, and dreamed about our lives together spent on digs where he can brush dust off broken pots while I write novels.

Yes, I know. How I’m still not writing for Mills and Boon is a mystery.

Don’t tell me that they’re all the same...Cause even the sound of his name, carries me over their reach, back to some golden beach, where only he remains... Karen O sweetly sighs.

It’s a nice album. But I get the feeling I will soon forget it. It’s youthful, kind of sweet, but I want to be struck by a thunderbolt.

A month before I went on the Man Diet, someone told me that what I really want is someone to make sense of me.

Well der. Wouldn’t that be exquisite? Fuck – You complete me. What’s so incomplete about me right now?

You make sense of me. Now that is something else.