Classifieds
Call: #734-418-4115
Email: dailydisplay@gmail.com
EFFICIENCY ‑ 1 & 2 Bdrm Apts
Fall 2019/20
Rents range $875 ‑ $1850 most
include heat and water. Showings
scheduled M‑F 10‑3
734‑996‑1991
By Craig Stowe
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
04/02/19
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis
04/02/19
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
Release Date: Tuesday, April 2, 2019
ACROSS
1 “I’m clever”
chuckle
4 Take a broom to
9 Rapscallion
14 Pretty __ picture
15 Main artery
16 __ roll: student’s
achievement
17 Hawk, in the
military sense
19 Get the best of
20 In the buff
21 Local residents,
to local college
students
23 Draw sap from,
as a maple
25 “I haven’t the
foggiest”
27 Grooming
process
30 Formula __: auto
racing class
31 Casino
convenience
32 Cacophonous
34 Prescription items
38 Canapé garnish
39 Competition
41 Snap or split
veggie
42 “Casino” co-star
Joe
44 Ease up
45 Toy with, cat-style
46 Microbrewery
product
48 Studios for artists
50 Materials for
babies’ rugs
54 Paper size: Abbr.
55 Consumed
amounts
56 Reverb in a
chamber
59 Centipede game
company
60 Drambuie and
Scotch cocktail
65 Closer to being
harvested
66 Month before
febrero
67 Get it
68 “Alien” director
Ridley __
69 Eggs purchase
70 Juan’s “that”
DOWN
1 Goldie with a
Golden Globe
2 Founder of
Edom
3 *Tough period
in life
4 Brazilian map
word
5 Hit the jackpot
6 Bit of energy
7 Strasbourg
summer
8 Second section
9 *Grade school
presentation
10 Come back (with)
11 Naysayers
12 Web surfing tool
13 Narrative writing
18 Event with
courses
22 War on Poverty
org.
24 *Slim-fitting Dior
creation
25 Singer Turner’s
memoir
26 *Nuclear treaty
subject
27 Camper’s cover
28 Plains native
29 Excessively
33 Irish poet who
wrote “Easter,
1916”
35 Caps, and a hint
to the answers to
starred clues
36 Drive or reverse
37 Toothed tools
40 Fr. holy woman
43 Moulin Rouge,
notably
47 Squeeze (out)
49 Cross-country
southern hwy.
50 Some are
compulsive
51 Shenanigan
52 Philippines peak:
Abbr.
53 Looks flushed
57 Hurries,
old-style
58 Bread spread
61 2018 National
Toy Hall of Fame
inductee
62 “__ who?”
63 Antonio’s three
64 That, old-style
FOR RENT
Ty Segall’s new album begins
with four words, so soft and
so
quickly
interrupted
that
they’re easy to miss: “Ladies and
gentlemen, the—”
That’s it. Then, there are the
guitars.
It’s quite the hook, and “Warm
Hands” is an almost impossible
song to turn off, once you’re
sucked into it. The lyrics tell an
enthralling story — “He said he
wanted to talk to me / ‘Come here,
let me take you home’ / My hands,
they feel warm / My car
can run” — and the guitars
are so pressing, they evoke
the feeling of, yes, getting
into a car with somebody
else driving, and then
realizing too late what
you’ve signed on for once
you’re hurtling down the
freeway at 100 miles an hour.
It’s hard to know what to expect
from an artist like Segall. In a little
over a decade of music-making, the
California multi-instrumentalist
has flexed his muscles in several
entirely different directions, from
the early lo-fi garage rock of early
albums like the first Ty Segall and
Goodbye Bread to the intentionally
freeform explorations of his most
recent record-length effort, last
year’s Freedom’s Goblin. He’s
proven himself to be among the
most prolific artists currently
making
music,
putting
out
practically an album a year, and
occasionally even more.
His newest record, Deforming
Lobes, is a live album recorded last
year at the Teragram Ballroom
in Los Angeles. It features songs
plucked from all corners of
Segall’s musical repertoire, from
2010’s Melted to his second self-
titled album, released in 2017.
Segall’s approach to the live album
seems to focus on one aspect while
discarding any elements he deems
unnecessary, including the fuzzy
applause and cheering that artists
usually leave in at the end of each
track (to the effect of feeling like
you’re at the concert), as well
as any songs that wouldn’t have
benefited the record.
Namely, Segall — already no
stranger to long or unusual track
lengths — capitalizes on the
ways in which live tracks can
expand and grow beyond their
original span. The closing track,
“Love Fuzz,” features perhaps
one of the best examples of this,
a prolonged section of chiming
that evokes alien abduction and
grows sharper and sharper as it
dwindles, coaxing the listener
into near-hypnosis before finally
exploding back into the static
and intense instrumentation that
kicked off the meat of the track
initially.
The crowning element of the
album’s character has to be the
Freedom Band, made up of Mikal
Cronin (bass), Charles Moothart
(drums), Emmett Kelly (guitar)
and Ben Boye (piano). Guitars
don’t sing like this everywhere.
The album is only eight tracks
long, making for a very tightly
packed 35 minutes, so it’s hard to
pick standouts knowing that we’re
already experiencing the cream
of the crop. But “Warm Hands,”
the opening track and the longest
one on the album at almost 10
minutes,
practically
demands
that the listener give the other
seven songs a listen, too. “Cherry
Red” features an instrumental
section that threatens
to blow its own top off.
One almost wonders
whether the applause
and shouts of the
audience
members
were done away with
because they simply
would have added too
much extreme dimension to an
album already bursting with it.
The album is all about reining
in chaos into something distilled
and singularly creative. Each
track is a live performance at a
show, and yet the recordings are
largely honed back to the music
itself, to the point that at times the
album sounds like a more frenetic
version of a studio effort (in a good
way). The music itself sounds
purposeful, yet totally unbridled,
infused with a sense of prehistoric
rock that comes back and back to
us throughout the ages, surfacing
over and over again in new ways.
Segall pours heart into
album ‘Deforming Lobes’
LAURA DZUBAY
Daily Arts Writer
DRAG CITY
ALBUM REVIEW
Deforming Lobes
Ty Segall
Drag City
“On My Block,” Netflix’s most
binge-watched show of 2018, is
back with its second season, a
return that can only be described
as a charming portrayal of
young-minded teens facing real-
life problems. The show self-
actualizes into the framework
of the show it was supposed to
be in the first season — a show
about
soul-searching
high
school freshmen that struggle
with childhood trauma, external
pressures to act a certain way
and now, how to handle
all
that
Rollerworld
loot that Jamal (Brett
Gray,
“Chicago
P.D.”)
discovered in the first
season.
The
new
season
picks up a few months
after the aggravatingly nerve-
wracking cliffhanger of the
first season, and viewers were
finally given the chance to find
out the fate of our beloved Ruby
(Jason Genao, “Logan”) and
Olivia (Ronni Hawk, “S.W.A.T.”).
Despite the first season finale’s
downer ending, the show never
neglects its lighthearted nature
and its refreshingly comedic
view on topics that are not
always supposed to be funny. It’s
hilariously relevant, especially
in the scene where Ruby comes
back to school and all of his
peers want to take selfies with
his
scarred
bullet
wound.
The show switches smoothly
between serious political issues
that come with being stuck in a
bad neighborhood and ridiculous
drama that all high schoolers
inevitably experience at some
point in their life.
The biggest improvement is
that the characters find deeper
realms of dimensionality than
they had in their first season,
especially as they go through
the stages of grief from losing
their new friend Olivia from
gang violence. Monse (Sierra
Capri, debut) interacts with the
woman who she suspects is her
biological mother, Cesar (Diego
Tinoco, “Teen Wolf”) struggles
through
rejection
from
his
brother and the constant threat
of homelessness and Jamal deals
with the repercussions of having
a cursed fortune on his hands.
Although every character sees
some semblance of development
in the new season, it is Ruby
and Jazmine (Jessica Marie
Garcia, “How to Get Away with
Murder”) who are able to show
the most depth. Ruby suffers
through
anxiety
and
PTSD
episodes from facing a near-
death experience, and we are
finally able to see Jazmine’s
full three-dimensionality when
Ruby visits her home and sees
what makes her the way she is.
We also get to see new
character dynamics that we
didn’t get in the first season.
The most amusing of them all
was Jamal and Cesar, who are
forced to stay together when
Cesar has nowhere else to go.
Jamal’s energetic nervousness
contrasted
against
Cesar’s
cool kid attitude makes for an
entertaining few episodes and
brings
the
ride-or-die
crew
closer together than ever before.
While nobody can resist the
addictive charm of the crew’s
energy, at times the high school
drama feels a bit too timely and
predictable. If the showrunners
could
focus
on
diversifying
the
complexity
of
the
teen drama to match
the creativity of the
primary
storylines,
then the show has
a good chance of
running for at least another
few seasons. Despite this, it
is appreciated that this show
experiments with new kinds
of twists and turns that don’t
consist of the typical “small
quiet town faces big mysterious
murder” narrative. The second
season fills in the gaps between
the
characters
and
their
struggles
that
were
present
throughout the first season,
and viewers can only hope
that Netflix sees that obvious
potential that the show offers
and hits the “renewal” button
until their hands go numb. After
the chilling way season one
ended, we desperately need it.
‘On My Block’ charms all
throughout season two
NETFLIX
TV REVIEW
On My Block
Season 2
Netflix
SOPHIA YOON
For The Daily
Throughout my time at college,
my perception of what “good”
writing is has changed immensely.
Before college, writing was a hobby.
I enjoyed the simple act of writing; it
was natural to me. I wasn’t holding
myself to any standard or abiding
by any rules. My writing was a full
expression of myself, uninfluenced
by “great” literature or renowned
writers or publication guidelines.
I was sometimes praised for my
writing and encouraged to formally
pursue writing in my education.
I eventually did decide to formally
pursue writing, and have been
doing so for the past three years. I’ve
taken many workshop classes at the
University of Michigan as well as
New York University. I’ve attended
countless
writing
conferences,
readings and events. I’ve written a
number of essay collections that I
still can’t believe I finished. I’ve won
some awards and have come close
to winning others.
Somehow, though, I feel like less
of a writer than I was at 17.
My experience with writing
sometimes
feels
surreal,
even
though I haven’t, by any terms,
“made it” as a writer. I began as a
girl with a journal in her nightstand
drawer, and now, somehow, I’m
here. I’ve heard accomplished
writers speak and I have worked
closely with many of them. I’ve
learned what to write and when,
how to get published and where.
I’ve
written
and
edited
and
re-written and re-edited pieces.
I’ve completed this cycle so many
times that some of my work doesn’t
even feel like mine. I’ve learned so
much about writing that sometimes
I forget how to write; I’m paralyzed
by the thought of flow and tone and
recognition, which I’ve internalized
as the singular pillar of artistic
accomplishment.
I’ve lost touch with myself
as an artist in the pressure to be
a “good” writer by the implicit
standards of literary achievement
— standards that, after many
nights of frustration, agony and
subsequent
soul-searching,
I’ve
decided are illusory on the premise
of their elitism. Literary knowledge,
allusions and inclusion in high-
brow social groups — Fitzgerald,
Capote, Didion – have played a
role in shaping these standards,
while living in complete isolation
and selling your soul to the craft of
writing (in conjunction with illicit
substances) has, too — Hemingway,
Salinger, Thoreau.
In other words, the road to
literary success has been defined,
and, to most, is unavailable.
***
On Thursdays, I go to Cotton
Correctional Facility in Jackson.
I facilitate a creative writing
workshop
with
three
other
members of the Prison Creative
Arts Project for incarcerated men.
We push the tables in the classroom
together and sit in a circle. We play
games, do writing exercises and
share our pieces with each other.
For every piece shared comes a
round of poetry snapping and warm
smiles, compassionate head shakes
or intelligent feedback, regardless
of whether it’s positive or negative.
Before I’d gone to Cotton, when
I’d told my friends and family about
the workshop I’d be facilitating,
they’d assured me that I’d teach the
men a lot. They knew that I knew
how to write — I’d been doing it
forever, and I’d studied the craft
extensively. But I was never under
the impression that I had anything
to teach these men. In fact, I knew
I’d be the one learning.
I was right in knowing that I
didn’t have anything to offer the
men, aside from giving them the
space to express themselves. What
I didn’t anticipate, though, was the
amount of wisdom and passion and
knowledge that they have shown
me. It’s one thing to learn from
something, but it’s another to have
it change you — which is what the
men at Cotton did.
In
that
classroom,
I’ve
encountered the most powerful
writing I’ve read. These men have
faced
nearly
insurmountable
adversity.
They’ve
experienced
enough pain for 10 lifetimes.
They’ve been robbed of resources
that I, and many of my peers, have
had access to our whole lives. And
they’re the best artists I’ve ever met.
The men at Cotton have stripped
the art of writing down to its
essence. Its essence is not elite — it’s
not knowledge or culture or even
recognition. It’s genuineness. Their
writing is magnetic, organic.
Through their authenticity, these
men have inspired me to become
who I am, both as a writer and as a
person. Because of them, what I’ve
been taught about what writing is
supposed to be is unraveling. The
best writers are the ones who are
fully themselves.
Because of them, I’ve decided
to forget what I know and become
the writer I was at 17. Because of
them, I’ve realized that the best art
is often not celebrated, because it’s
raw, messy and imperfect. The best
writing doesn’t adhere to a standard
or yearn for recognition — it only
exists in its purest form, despite
whether or not it’s loved.
Deconstructing writing
JENNA BARLAGE
Daily Arts Writer
COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK
6 —Tuesday, April 2, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com