3 & 4 Bedroom Apts Avail Fall 19/20
$1800 ‑ $2680 + Utilities
Laundry On Site, Parking Avail
1015 Packard ‑ 734‑996‑1991

EFFICIENCY ‑ 1 & 2 Bdrm apart‑
ments Fall 2019/20
Rents range $875 ‑ $1850 
most include heat and water
Showings scheduled M‑F 10‑3
734‑996‑1991

By Paul Coulter
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
01/22/19

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

01/22/19

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Tuesday, January 22, 2019

ACROSS
1 Senegal’s capital
6 Website for 
techies
10 Talk show runner
14 2018 romaine 
lettuce concern
15 Drinking glass 
edges
16 “What’s gotten __ 
you?”
17 Mortgage check, 
say
20 Italian three
21 Classified ad 
abbr.
22 “How exciting!”
23 Brit’s sausage-
with-potatoes 
dish
30 Benelux locale: 
Abbr.
31 Furniture chain 
also known 
for Swedish 
meatballs
32 Wash. Nats’ div.
33 “Encore!”
36 Barbara of 
TV’s “Mission: 
Impossible”
37 Patriarch from 
Eden
38 Calls on for help
40 Stash out of 
sight
42 Highland caps
43 Blockheads
45 “I don’t mind 
eels / Except as 
meals” poet Nash
46 __ nutshell: 
briefly
47 Had on
48 Évian water
49 42-7, say, in an 
NFL game
54 Consume
55 Eggy drink
56 Key lime __
58 What ends many 
a line, and what 
begins each 
of the puzzle’s 
three other long 
answers
64 Citizenship 
recitation
65 Bad day for 
Caesar
66 Intrude rudely, 
with “in”
67 Cancún cash
68 Whirling current
69 Pretended to be

DOWN
1 Cabinet div.
2 Biting
3 South __, 2018 
Olympics site
4 Boxing legend
5 2016 Olympics 
city
6 Colonial news 
source
7 Capital of Cyprus
8 Old Rom. ruler
9 Airport screening 
org.
10 Greeting 
mouthed to a 
stadium cam
11 Like home-run-
robbing catches
12 RR stop
13 Typical Nick Jr. 
watcher
18 Venison source
19 “Patience you 
must have” Jedi 
master
24 Bundestag nos
25 Tries hard (for)
26 Part of SWAK
27 Endangered 
Hawaiian goose
28 Bluish gray
29 Studly dudes
33 Heirloom storage 
spot

34 Organic fertilizer
35 Arsenal contents
36 Lumber unit
37 Bicker
39 SpongeBob, e.g.
41 What Frosty’s 
eyes are made of
44 Made a 
misleading move
47 “W” on a light 
bulb
48 Thick & Fluffy 
waffle brand
50 Like 29-Down

51 Clamorous
52 In different 
places
53 Mournful song
57 Barely managed, 
with “out”
58 Drop by, with “in”
59 Federation in 
OPEC
60 One-eighty
61 Do simple math
62 Org. with Nets ... 
and nets
63 Dude

FOR RENT

Classifieds

Call: #734-418-4115
Email: dailydisplay@gmail.com

“No one’s easy to love,” Sharon 
Van Etten sings — but fans of Van 
Etten will have no trouble falling 
in love with her latest release. Her 
new album Remind Me Tomorrow 
is 10 tracks of the otherworldly 
and strange. One may find it 
initially disconcerting, with its 
repetitive, hypnotic sounds and 
Van Etten’s crooning. The album 
even presents itself as yet 
another somber, indie-pop 
pity-party, with soft vocals 
and an abundance of longing. 
The opening track “I Told 
You Everything” is quiet and 
lonely, the lines “Sitting at the 
bar / I told you everything” 
tinged with the subtle tone of 
regret. “Memorial Day,” too, 
feels at times almost alien. In 
fact, the entire first half of the 
album hangs on the cliff’s edge of 
bitter and sad.
The 
album, 
however, 
is 
anything but sad. It is truthful, 
it is vulnerable, it is powerful, it 
is a knock-your-socks-off dose of 
catharsis.
The album quickly grows in 
passion, power and energy from 
beginning to end. “Comeback 
Kid” comes roaring to life by the 
fourth track, all at once familiar, 

willful and wild. Van Etten’s 
story of a directionless runaway 
hits close to home — maybe too 
close. Van Etten sings, “Don’t 
let me slip away,” a plea of help 
that resonates in the darker 
spaces of the mind. But again, 
it’s not sad or painful, but rather 
relieving to hear someone else 
put to words a fear we often 
bury: a fear of losing our way. 
“Jupiter 4” and “Seventeen” also 
come bearing a dose of honesty 

— of acknowledgement — that is 
cathartic. Then, the penultimate 
closer, “Hands” is like a tsunami 
of emotion compared to the bare-
bones quiet of the opener, “I Told 
You Everything.”
It’s almost as if a movie-styled 
time-skip has occurred, where 
the main character grows up in 
a series of brief, interconnected 
scenes. The entire album feels like 
a bad case of deja-vu. The songs 

reach across a lifetime of follies, 
victories, and winding paths —
the well worn and the (as of yet) 
unexplored. It’s only by the end 
of the last track that one realizes 
the magic Van Etten has woven 
into her album: The stranger Van 
Etten sings of is actually you.
No, 
not 
everyone 
has 
experienced the same ups and 
the same downs that Van Etten 
describes, but the lingering sense 
of uncertainty throughout the 
album brushes close to home. 
Growing up is confusing and 
scary — full of crossroads, 
decisions and forked paths. 
The bare orchestration of the 
songs, combined with the soft 
vulnerability of Van Etten’s 
singing sometimes seems as if 
she could be that voice inside 
your head, the one that knows 
all your secrets, all your desires 
and all your regrets. Alarming 
though it may seem to have 
someone look right through all 
the walls and defenses, the end 
result is so very satisfying.
“What do I do?” “Where do 
I go?” “How do I do this?” Van 
Etten embraces this uncertainty. 
She completely, utterly owns it. 
And from this acceptance is a rare 
sense of freedom. It then seems 
so simple for listeners to do the 
same.

Van Etten matures with 
‘Remind Me Tomorrow’

MADELEINE GANNON
Daily Arts Writer

JAGJAGUWAR

MUSIC REVIEW

Remind Me 
Tomorrow

Sharon Van Etten

Jagjaguwar

Some actors age gracefully. 
They forgo the youthful roles 
of their early careers, often in 
favor of those more mature and 
dramatic. Others simply ride 
their fame and influence to the 
director’s chair. These are the 
immortal ones, the Streeps, the 
McKellens, the De Niros. Some 
actors, however, find themselves 
unable to part with the roles 
and ideas that first made them 
great. They resist change with 
contempt until their careers 
are lost to obscurity. With 
his latest film “The Mule,” 
director 
and 
Western-film 
legend Clint Eastwood seems 
poised to do just that.
I went to see this film with 
my grandfather, both of us 
praying for “Dirty Harry” 
Clint Eastwood and not “The 
15:17 to Paris” Clint Eastwood. 
Unfortunately, what we got was 
“talking to an empty chair at the 
Republican National Convention” 
Clint Eastwood. For 
those not familiar, 
“The Mule” tells the 
story of Earl Stone 
(Clint 
Eastwood, 
“Gran 
Torino”), 
a 
charismatic 
horticulturalist 
in 
his early 90s who 
could 
never 
quite 

slow down to make time for his 
family. When Earl goes bankrupt, 
an opportunity arises for him to 
make some fast cash transporting 
contraband as a drug mule for the 
Mexican Drug Cartel. In short, 
the movie is baby boomer fantasy 
porn. No, seriously, a scene about 
two-thirds of the way through 
the movie sees Earl fawned over 
by topless prostitutes, and seems 
to exist with little purpose aside 
from being documented proof 
that Clint Eastwood can still get 
it up.

It’s rare that I should leave a 
movie without a single positive 
thing to say, and yet here we 
are. The writing is corny, the 
performances forgettable and the 
action sequences strangely absent 
from a movie advertising itself 
as an action film. Beyond being 
an abject failure of a film, “The 
Mule” also seems insistent on 
pushing Eastwood’s dated social 
politics. In one eye-roll inducing 
scene, Earl pulls over on the side 
of the road to help a young Black 
family with a flat tire. The father 

explains that he’s been on the 
internet trying to find a solution, 
to which Earl replies, “That’s the 
problem with you Millenials; can’t 
do anything without your dang 
Google boxes.” Earl then replaces 
the tire, but not without casually 
dropping a racial slur. When the 
family reprimands him, he rolls 
his eyes and is on his merry way 
to deliver the kilogram of cocaine 
in his trunk.
Obviously Earl Stone isn’t Clint 
Eastwood, but it’s impossible 
not to feel like the character is a 
surrogate for how Eastwood 
views himself: a charismatic 
bad boy full of wry witticisms 
and a condescending chagrin 
for political correctness. As a 
result, “The Mule” feels less 
like an actual film and more 
like a highlight reel of what 
happens when Eastwood has 
nobody around him willing to 
tell him “no.” It should serve as a 
testament to the weight that his 
name still carries that he managed 
to get Bradley Cooper (“A Star 
is Born”) to be in this movie, 
especially considering Cooper’s 
character, DEA agent Colin Bates, 
is completely forgettable. Then 
again, nothing about “The Mule” 
is particularly memorable. It feels 
like a caricature of a film we’ve all 
seen before. It’s a fitting metaphor 
as Clint Eastwood strays further 
and further into his own self-
characterization.

Eastwood is past prime 
with boomer ‘The Mule’

MAX MICHALSKY
Daily Arts Writer

FILM REVIEW

IMPERATIVE ENTERTAINMENT

‘The Mule’

Imperative Entertainment

Goodrich Quality 16

I’m writing this while watching snow 
fall on a frozen lake. There’s a guy zooming 
around on a four-wheeler with a sled 
attached the back, and his two tiny children 
are sitting on it looking like fluffy bundles 
of hats and scarves.
After long breaks, there’s always an 
undeniable thrill in coming back to Ann 
Arbor. You see all your friends, eat Frank’s 
hash browns and can spot maize and blue 
everywhere. As a second semester senior, 
I’ve spent a lot of time anticipating that 
moment when I take Exit 172 back into Ann 
Arbor or arrive at the Ann Arbor Amtrak 
Station.
Yet just as much as I love returning to 
Ann Arbor, I often find myself needing to 
escape once I’m there. Maybe it’s because 
Ann Arbor comes with the stress of school, 
or maybe it’s because Ann Arbor is a town 
of mediums: busy enough to be in constant 
motion but still quiet at odd hours, large 
enough to discover your own favorite coffee 
shop or bar but small enough to eventually 
see someone you know there.
Usually, a trip to Meijer or Trader Joe’s 
is enough to cure Ann Arbor’s intensity 
when I first come back to campus. Though 
they’re just a few miles from campus, these 
grocery store trips offer me a moment of 
repose and break the bubble of Ann Arbor 
that’s simultaneously exhilarating and 
exhausting.
This Martin Luther King Jr. weekend, 
I ventured out even further, heading up 
north to my roommate’s lake house. The 
back of their house faces Long Lake, and 
my friends and I have spent hours staring 
out the window watching people ice fish, 
take their children sledding or attempt to 
do donuts with their snowmobiles (would 

not recommend). Everything here is in 
stark contrast to Ann Arbor, from the lack 
of drunk people screaming at 2 a.m. to 
the amount of unplowed snow I can see 
extending into the distance.
I realize I’m waxing poetic to something 
Michiganders already know: Northern 
Michigan is beautiful.
But, seeing Northern Michigan has made 
me think about my relationship with Ann 
Arbor. It’s not that I don’t love the city, 
because I truly do. It’s filled with a sense 
of community for me, whether through 
writing or school or yoga. It’s where 
I’ve made so many wonderful friends, 
(somewhat) learned how to cook and grew 
up from the freshman I once was.
For many of us, Ann Arbor is a temporary 
home away from home, a place to live as we 
learn how to be young adults. Though the 
future is always uncertain, many of us know 
these years will be the only ones we spend 
in Ann Arbor or even the state of Michigan.
And maybe that’s why I feel the 
overwhelming urge to leave Ann Arbor on 
occasion. I know the time I have left in the 
place I began to call my home is running 
out, so I walk up and down State Street 
thinking about how in a few months I will 
graduate and leave Ann Arbor. I’ll no longer 
walk past South Quad and get nostalgic or 
stroll into Frank’s for breakfast or run into 
three of my friends in Angell Hall on the 
way to class; being in Ann Arbor reminds 
me of that.
As bleak as that may sound, I’m still 
missing Ann Arbor right now, even while 
sitting in front of a massive window 
watching children sled on a frozen lake. 
Because I love Ann Arbor for being intense 
and thrilling and the perfect medium 
between a college town and a real city.
Also, how can you not love Frank’s hash 
browns?

Loving and hating Ann 
Arbor, after four years

NITYA GUPTA
Daily Arts Writer

COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK

5A — Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

