The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Monday, April 18, 2016 — 5A

ACROSS
1 “That was
close!”
5 Fictional whale
hunter
9 Dying-out sound
13 Affectionate
email closing
14 Farmer’s place,
in song
15 Cuisinart setting
16 Ready to admit
customers
19 Al __: firm, as
pasta
20 “Splish Splash”
singer Bobby
21 Inexact no.
22 Baseball card
figs.
24 Skillful
26 Blot up the
moisture on
29 Like a perfect
game
32 Cinderella’s
horses, after
midnight
35 “I __ you one”
36 Like wolves
37 Springsteen’s
“Born in the __”
38 Outfit for the
slopes
40 TV program
breaks
41 Cocktail party
bite
43 Envoy’s bldg.
44 Thicken, as
cream
45 Many-headed
monster
46 Potato or rice,
e.g.
48 Gulf of Aden
republic
50 False name
53 Texter’s “Hang
on a minute”
55 Super-fun party
58 Planet attacked
in some sci-fi
films
60 It more or less
coincides with
2016 on Chinese
calendars ... and
a hint to this
puzzle’s circles
63 Fortune-teller’s
deck
64 Coke, e.g.
65 Like a 2-2 game
66 “What __ is
new?”

67 Wait on the
phone
68 Memo starter

DOWN
1 Walk with
difficulty
2 Crosses one’s
fingers
3 The World
Series, e.g.
4 Came unglued
5 Hue and cry
6 Buffalo group
7 “Dark Angel”
actress Jessica
8 Movie disk format
9 “I used to be a
banker but I lost
interest,” e.g.
10 Seller’s come-on
11 Come clean, with
“up”
12 Dry run
15 Pesto ingredient
17 Brine-cured
Greek cheese
18 Vicious of the
Sex Pistols
23 Tend, as a fire
25 Dad
27 SADD focus
28 Put back to zero
30 Bring to ruin
31 Hornet’s home
32 “__ obliged!”

33 Words to an old
chap
34 Snickers and
Milky Way
36 Sign of many an
October baby
38 Program that
sends unsolicited
messages
39 Thurman of “The
Producers”
42 “__ you nuts?”
44 Wine in a straw-
wrapped bottle

46 Grab
47 1963 Liz Taylor
role
49 Helper for Santa
51 “Argo” actor Alan
52 T-bone source
53 Computer
memory unit
54 Genuine
56 “Beat it!”
57 Be a snitch
59 Jekyll’s alter ego
61 Lobster eggs
62 Fuming

By C.C. Burnikel
©2016 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
04/18/16

04/18/16

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

RELEASE DATE– Monday, April 18, 2016

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

xwordeditor@aol.com

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SUMMER EMPLOYMENT

FOR RENT
ANNOUNCEMENT

SUMMER EMPLOYMENT

HELP WANTED

D

ear Gillian,

I’ve been seeing this 

boy for around a month 

now, and I find myself falling for 
him hard. He’s super smart and 
charming and handsome and kind 
of perfect. The one problem is, we 
are both seniors and will be going 
our separate ways in a few weeks. 
I’m trying not to confront this 
fact but it is 
unavoidable. 
I feel like I’ve 
really formed 
a deep bond 
with this 
person and 
want to spend 
as much time 
with him as 
possible, yet 
every time 
we hang out, 
in the back of my mind I hear a 
voice telling me to not pour so much 
into the relationship because it’s 
coming to an end shortly, whether 
or not I like it. Do I just end it now 
in order to make our good-bye that 
much easier? Or do I say screw it 
and keep up the intense level we’ve 
reached now? I would never want to 
stunt my natural inclination, which 
would be to continue on with him, 
but I can’t help but feel scared that 
it’s all for naught once graduation 
happens. I want nothing more than 
to just be in the moment with him, 
but it’s really hard. Help me out!!

— Reluctant Graduate
Dear Reluctant,
Whether it’s the end of summer, 

the end of a program or the end 
of an adventure, many are the 
looming last stops on a life path 
that have been ignored by love. 
But the advice to fellow travelers 
in love is always the same, 
quintessentially expressed in the 
Victorian poet Tennyson’s timeless 
trope: “tis better to have loved and 

lost than never to have loved at all.”

If you were hoping for the 

opposite advice, you’ve come the 
wrong place. The history books, 
poetry volumes, fiction shelves, 
gallery walls and Netflix queues 
all brim with characters carrying 
on with loves that everyone knew 
were doomed. Good luck finding 
any whose pragmatism wasn’t 
pummeled into submission by 
love’s mighty forces.

Do you think “Casablanca” ’s 

Rick and Ilsa, who were from 
opposite ends of the Western 
world, knew zero about each other 
and were facing the Germans 
rolling into Paris, didn’t know they 
were doomed? Nonetheless they 
carried out a storybook romance 
montaged in dreamy flashback. 
They loved, they lost, but they’ll 
always have Paris.

It was the same for Dido, queen 

of Carthage and Aeneas, who 
commanded the Roman fleet soon 
to sail home. You can’t stop divine 
fate; you can’t stop human passion. 
The “Before Sunrise” trilogy is 
conceived entirely around short 
timeframes where the lives of two 
individuals intersect and then 
separate. While the spontaneity of 
Ethan Hawke’s decisions to hop 
off the train in Vienna with the 
beautiful and French Julie Delpy 
seems like a no-brainer, the night 
animates the entire rest of their 
lives.

Many believe it is the very 

nature of love to be fleeting. The 
examples are countless, but look at 
these elegant lyrics from the song 
“Who Wants Love,” by Gus Kahn 
and Franz Wexman, and made 
famous by Billie Holiday:

Who wants love?
Love is a joy we borrow
Pay back in tears tomorrow
So who wants love?
Who wants love?

Something to fill your heart with
So very soon to part with
So who wants love?
So you might say that love 

is comfortable in a temporary 
setting. In your situation, Luct, the 
temporariness of your setting may 
well be enabling, even intensifying, 
your love. Go with it; who’s to say 
it’s not the best kind?

And really, you can’t ever fully 

possess anyone, even if you were 
not scheduled for an imminent 
parting of ways. Consider this 
passage from Mark Merlis’s novel 
“The Arrow’s Flight,” which 
sets American gay culture of the 
late ’70s within a classical Greek 
framework:

“Do you know how sometimes 

you see a man, and you’re not sure 
if you want to get in his pants or if 
you want to cry? Not because you 
can’t have him; maybe you can: 
But you see right away something 
in him beyond having. You can’t 
screw your way into it, any more 
than you can get at the golden 
eggs by slitting the goose. So you 
want to cry, not like a child, but 
like an exile who is reminded of 
his homeland. That’s what Leucon 
saw when he first beheld Pyrrhus: 
as if he were getting a glimpse of 
that other place we were meant to 
be, the shore from which we were 
deported before we were born.”

The lesson, beautifully 

intensified in the passage, is that 
owning your lover’s perpetual 
time may be an illusion and being 
with them in the moment, as you 
say, may be the only, or best, thing 
there is.

Read the rest at michigandaily.

com/section/arts

Jakab will be missed very 

much. If you miss her already, 

email gillianj@umich.edu

The ship has sailed

CULTURAL CURES COLUMN

GILLIAN 
JAKAB

I

NT. STUDENT PUBLI-
CATIONS NEWSROOM, 
NIGHT

A table full of misfits, a com-

puter that barely works, six 
friends 
brought 
together 
by fate and 
a shared 
appreciation 
for Courtney 
Barnett. 
Our heroine, 
CHLOE, is 
dressed up 
in one of 
her several 
frilly black 
shirts. She knows it’s a special 
night — a season finale of sorts. 
It’s her last nightside shift at 
The Michigan Daily. She edits 
a Rick Ross album review and 
lays the articles out on the page, 
exports them to the printer. She 
is disappointed how normally 
everything goes. No excitement, 
a well-written but unfulfilling 
ending to such an excellent show. 
B+.

And then it’s finished. The 

underclassmen leave. THE 
ONLY OTHER SENIOR goes to 
a club meeting or study session 
or something. She bullies one of 
her co-editors into staying at the 
table with her, then encourages 
him to read her senior goodbye, 
which she knows will probably 
make him cry. He suddenly leaves 
mid-read, and she is alone at the 
table. She puts on music to fill 
the void. “Don’t Dream It’s Over” 
comes on her shuffled IPOD 
and her eyes well up. Within a 
few minutes, she is out of her 
beloved newsroom and openly 
sobbing and gasping for breath 
at a red light.

Chloe has seen enough TV 

finales to know when she’s liv-
ing one. It’s the last night of 
production at The Michigan 
Daily, maybe the last time she’ll 
be paid to do journalism. It’s the 
last night she’ll spend with these 
beautiful friends without having 
to catch up, ask what’s new or 
comment on who grew a beard 
in the nine weeks since she has 
seen him. Even though she’s 
supposed to stay back at the 
Daily and do senior activities, 
she needs a few minutes to sort 
herself out.

She crawls into bed with her 

iPod, scouring her collection 
to find a song that’s a worthy 
score to her hurricane of emo-
tions. She settles on “Holy Shit,” 
a song that Father John Misty 
wrote on the day of his wedding 
to express the ambivalent terror 
and hope he felt about mov-
ing into a new phase of his life. 
“Holy Shit” ’s lyrics are mostly 
cynical nonsense, but sometimes 
the searing guitar and piano 
break through for a lyric or two 
that make your heart stop from 
their sincerity.

Oh, and love is just an institu-

tion based on human frailty / 
What’s your paradise gotta do with 
Adam and Eve? / Maybe love is 
just an economy based on resource 
scarcity / But what I fail to see is 
what that’s gotta do with you and 
me.

For a half hour, she listens to 

the song on repeat, the last 30 sec-
onds punching her rawer every 
time, and texts the FRIEND 
WHO LEFT to apologize for 
being shitty and making him read 
her goodbye at the table. She’s a 
slave to dramatic narrative. She 
just wanted a good finale.

***
Since that night in December, 

I could list off a dozen others that 
have felt like finales — Friday 
night at Rick’s when they played 
“Toxic” and I had a serendipitous 
run-in with a recurring character 
from a few seasons ago, buying a 
graduation gown in the Student 
Publications building conference 
room while “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” 
played from someone’s laptop, 
texting a friend from a hotel room 
in Austin and feeling every mile of 
the distance between us. I’m try-
ing to keep an album of these little 
goodbyes, because the real ones 
are coming soon enough, and I’m 
not prepared to say them.

In August, I’m moving to Aus-

tin for grad school. My friends 
are scattering across the country, 
some immediately, some in a 
year or two. I don’t know anyone 
in Texas (unless you count the 
Taylor family from “Friday Night 
Lights”), and I’ll be a three hour 

plane ride from all my friends and 
family. I wish I could say I was 
excited, but it’s hard to stomach a 
fresh start when you’re so in love 
with the places and the people 
and the life you’ve got right now. 
This dream and future are com-
ing closer and faster, but none of it 
feels real — at least, not as real as 
my place in line at Zingerman’s, 
April snow flurries in my hair or 
a hug from my best friend who is 
right here. It’s a lot to let go of. I 
don’t know how to do it.

During the last few minutes 

of the “Six Feet Under” series 
finale, Claire Fisher says some-
thing along these same lines. 
She is leaving her family for the 
first time to set off for New York, 
where she’ll get her dream job as 
a photographer. But the dream 
doesn’t feel real, and it’s the 
hardest thing she has ever done 
to stand on her porch and hug 
the real ones goodbye. “I have 
no idea how to do this,” Claire 
admits to her brother David.

“Just say goodbye. Just say 

I love you, I’ll miss you.” The 
rest of her family files out to the 
porch to bid Claire farewell, and 
she pulls out her camera to take 
one last photo of everyone stand-
ing together. Her older brother 
Nate appears below her on the 
porch, a talking ghost or halluci-
nation or just the person Claire 
needed to see, her twin soul that 
passed away earlier in the show’s 
final season. He leans into her 
ear and whispers some words of 
wisdom and tells her how to say 
goodbye.

“You can’t take a picture of 

this. It’s already gone.”

Since I first watched this epi-

sode five years ago, I’ve tried to 
make sense of this haunting line. 
I think I finally get it. The porch 
is the gateway to a new part of 
Claire’s life, and now that she’s 
on the porch, she has already 
started to move away. Every 
second that ticks by is gone with 
the next tick, time stretching and 
pulling Claire farther from this 
version of herself and her life. 
The way Nate says this line is 
peaceful, like he’s telling Claire 
not to cling desperately to these 
dying moments, but to cherish 
each of them as they’re happen-
ing and let go as they slip away. 
Let the dream guide you, let the 
picture of happiness stay mythic 
and imagined, don’t try too hard 
to re-live the finale.

***
A week or two ago, following 

one of my finale nights, I had 
a dream I was on the shores of 
coastal Greece, falling into a 
quick and desperate affair with 
Ezra Koenig, the lead singer of 
Vampire Weekend. I’ve had a few 
dreams about celebrities before 
— probably a symptom of my 
general pop culture obsession or 
the fact that I listened to Modern 
Vampires of the City earlier that 
night. The dream with Ezra was 
by far the most vivid I’ve ever 
had. It played out in full like a 
movie — specifically, like a com-
plete rip-off of “Before Sunrise.”

Ezra and I met by the beach. 

We’d both been living in Greece 
for a while but never crossed 
paths before, which I guess 
sometimes happens with people 
who become your best friends. 
You’re existing in parallel, walk-
ing down the same street and 
thinking the same things and 
loving the same movies, yet 
somehow never knowing that 
person on the other side of the 
gulf.

We talked about the stuff 

we love first, because the way 
we related to each other was by 
sharing our opinions about TV 
and music and art. He was really 
jazzed about the upcoming LCD 
Soundsystem festival reunion 
tour and we recited all the lyrics 
to “All My Friends” to each other 
while standing in the ocean.

And if the sun comes up, if the 

sun comes up, if the sun comes up 
and I still don’t wanna stagger 
home / Then it’s the memory of 
our betters / That are keeping us 
on our feet.

Ezra reminded me of home, 

something I hadn’t felt in all the 
months I was living in Greece. 
He wasn’t from Ann Arbor or my 
Illinois hometown or anything, 
but I felt like he’d been traveling 
alongside me the whole time. 
We loved the same things in the 
same way — with earnestness 
and sincerity and a double dose 
of passion. I couldn’t think of 

anyone I’d rather walk the dream 
streets of Island City, Greece 
with.

***
After a few hours of lazy 

dream haziness, I was feeling 
especially candid and wanted to 
let Ezra know how I felt about 
him before I lost my courage. 
I was so glad I’d spent this day 
with him, so glad we could talk 
about things we loved and know 
somebody else saw the world the 
same way 
— 
 this world of beauti-

ful and silly things, dumb jokes 
and good veggie burgers, nights 
like this where we feel like we’re 
the only people awake in Island 
City and all its gorgeous splendor 
is ours for the taking. I wanted 
to stretch our night into forever. 
So did he.

We made the impulsive deci-

sion to take spaceships to Mars, 
because we’d always wanted to 
go there, and we felt the clock 
ticking closer to morning and 
our inevitable parting. Ezra and 
I wanted to get to a place where 
time couldn’t hurt us anymore 
and those gorgeous moments 
didn’t have to die. We’d sit on 
Mars and look out at little Earth 
below, smiling at how beautiful 
Island City looks in August from 
a million miles away.

Still, I could feel our paths 

sorting out into parallel again. I 
was meant to wake up from this 
dream and we were meant to 
separate. We were taking indi-
vidual spaceships to Mars, and I 
was already resigned to the fact 
that we wouldn’t get there at the 
same time.

Read the rest at michigandaily.

com/section/arts

Gilke will be missed very much. 

To send her a farewell message, 

email her at chloeliz@umich.edu

An album of finales

TV/NEW MEDIA COLUMN

CHLOE 
GILKE

