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