"Adore" captures the blissful ache of infatuation

Even though "Adore" was released as a single in 2016, the EP it ended up on, Amy Shark's "Night Thinker," didn't come out until 2017. And until this year, the Spokane area's premier indie rock station, KPND, wasn't playing it. So I'm tempted to consider it my favorite song of this year thus far. Back in 2016, after all, most of the people who fell in love with Shark's spare, sharp lyrics and achingly expressive music were her fellow Australians. Now we in the Northern Hemisphere get our shot.

"Adore" begins with three fraught guitar chords, then adds Shark's bruised-sounding voice, supported by a simple beat and subtle backing vocals. The song builds in urgency and vulnerability, all the while maintaining a loping, mid-tempo feel. The first three lines capture something vital about the desperation that accompanies a serious crush:

I'm just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm
I'm just gonna walk home kicking stones at parked cars
But I had a great night, 'cause you kept rubbing against my arm

In a quick but emotionally rich three minutes, Shark communicates volumes about romantic attraction that may or may not be requited. Eleven years ago, I wrote for Seattle Weekly about the agonies and, well, further agonies of the unrequited crush. It's a universal theme, but it's the rare song that honestly describes the torturous state of wanting someone who doesn't want you back.

In "Adore," Shark certainly shows both the overflowing passion ("I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you") and combative spirit  ("Watch me watch him talk to girls / I'm known as a right-hand slugger / Anybody else wanna touch my lover?") of someone who isn't entirely secure in her bond with the object of her desire. That's part of what makes the song so great: Obsession has a mighty undertow, a dark pull that can make otherwise reasonable people do unreasonable things. No unrequited-crush song worth its salt tries to pretty up the ugly side of asymmetrical attraction.

This gorgeous, pained love song would be a terrific fit for "13 Reasons Why," a show similarly concerned with infatuation that exists in tension with darkness. 2017 is far from over, but I'm not sure anyone is going to top "Adore" for raw emotional power.

Geek love

I figure the next stop on my search for a mate is the exciting world of dating sites for nerds. Fortunately, Nerve.com was kind enough to do a roundup of geek-romance nodes (isn't "node" a nerdy word?) so I don't have to. I did, however, write an article once about love among Seattle's hardcore Scrabble enthusiasts. It doesn't get a whole lot geekier than them.

A case for marrying Jewish that doesn't make me want to throw up

See, countless misguided Jewish organizations? This is how you do it.

"Srugim"

I have a new post about the Israeli TV series at Jew-ish.com.

On relationships

When I was a kindergartner at University Liggett School, I developed a crush on a blonde girl named Caroline, or maybe Carolyn. Ever since that fateful year, I've pretty much always had at least one active crush. I remember liking a girl named Elke in third grade in Germany; by middle school I was smitten with my classmates Rebecca and Diana, after which high school brought perhaps the most epic of all my crushes, which turned into unrequited love and lasted five whole years. I dated a few women during sophomore year of college and then fell in love midway through my junior year. We dated until December of 2001; the next month, I was on a plane to Seattle. From that point forward, until very recently, I've either been dating someone or wanting desperately to be dating someone. Crushing requires a lot of mental energy, as I noted in a Weekly column several years ago.

Right now, as I tackle a number of challenges at once -- Kibbutz stuff, working, preparing to start another writing workshop, getting the grad-school application process rolling, improving my financial skills, trying to make exercise a part of my life again, attempting to have a social life outside the Kibbutz, and a few other personal projects -- I just don't think I have room for a serious relationship. I've been mentioning this to people because it seems worth mentioning. When people are waist- or even neck-deep in work that's meaningful, even if not too much of it is paid, they're pretty much forced to take their minds off finding true love, and thus they become more likely recipients of its serendipitous blessings. They also seem more interesting to would-be significant others. It's a paradox -- the less you need or even desire a mate, the more likely it is that you're ready for one. I'd like to take the rest of 2009 off when it comes to looking for a girlfriend and resume the search next year.

If I think of finding love as a project, not unlike the other ones I'm working on, I'm likely to be more sensible and systematic about it -- and, ultimately, more successful. And if I put it at the end of my queue for this year, I can focus my energies on other things that will only make me more appealing when it's time to shift back to search mode. Now that spring has sprung and couples walk hand in hand through the parks, I can't pretend it's always easy not to pursue the next big relationship, but I can take some comfort in the knowledge that things will go better for me if I de-emphasize romance this year and start anew in 2010.

After all, it -- romance -- isn't going anywhere. It'll still be around next year. And right now, as I've also told friends, my relationship with the Kibbutz is my primary one. The way some people are, for a while, wedded to their work, I'm married to my desire to make our growing community strong and vital. It may not be paying work, but it's plenty rewarding, as any good relationship should be.

Summer of love

The romantic comedy needs an overhaul. Not unlike the horror genre, which many would consider its polar opposite, the romcom has a bad reputation, and unfortunately it's often justified. There are some good horror movies, but many of them are awful, relying as they do on gimmickry, gore, and extremely tired formulas. Similarly, romantic comedies frequently err on the side of color-by-numbers plotting and character development that hold few surprises for the viewer. And since that's precisely the opposite of what love is actually like, it's easy to get cynical. The last cardboard Hollywood romcom I saw, He's Just Not That Into You, combined a lifeless, unintelligent script with meager direction and underwhelming performances from stars who should know better. Movies like this are why people love to hate romantic comedy, dismissing it as a frothy genre stuffed with untruths, the big-screen equivalent of the Harlequin novel.

The Stranger once declared Annie Hall the best romcom ever, and it's hard to disagree. Woody Allen's masterpiece captures the awkwardness and serendipity of dating (in the famous first-kiss sequence, for example), the hope that love inspires, and the way two people can grow apart slowly but surely -- and how hard it can be to let go of the other person, even when you know, in your heart and in your head, that you should. Annie Hall is funny and insightful, yet for all its intelligence it maintains a breezy tone. It's tremendously well structured; every corner of the film, every scene, every moment, is packed with signifiers and color and throwaway jokes and sharp observations. Yet despite its density, it's always a joy to watch, never a slog. It's the kind of movie I can't see too many times, the kind I have to watch until the end if I happen to find that it's on. It doesn't pretend that love is a simple undertaking, but it also captures love's simple pleasures, which are many if you're open to them. For anyone who's been in love and hopes to be again, Annie Hall is a touchstone and a virtual bible of relationship wisdom. With that film as the gold standard, many newer ones understandably -- but still regrettably -- fall short.

Enter 500 Days of Summer, one of the movies I'm most eagerly anticipating at SIFF this year. When I taught an Experimental College class at Oberlin on contemporary (post-Annie Hall) romantic comedies, I sought to include films that didn't conform too much to genre tropes. When Harry Met Sally..., that immortal statement about male-female friendship, was one movie I chose; High Fidelity, about how relationships shape and reveal us, was another. I titled the class "Chasing Love," which I hoped would contain both a whiff of Shakespeare's "What fools these mortals be!" perspective (the Bard, after all, is the source of many romcom tropes) and an intimation of the timeless emotional slapstick to be found in our pursuit of romance.

What Summer promises is a tale of unrequited love. Joseph Gordon-Leavitt falls for Zooey Deschanel (and who wouldn't?), but she doesn't fall quite so hard for him. Hard enough, it seems, to date him for the titular 500 days, but not so hard that she won't cut him loose after that. Gordon-Leavitt is an actor who's played both jaded rebels (Mysterious Skin) and downy innocents (The Lookout), and judging from the trailer he'll be working on the latter end of the spectrum this time around. Deschanel has played jaded to another actor's innocence (Elf and Almost Famous), but this role will require more nuance, and I'm sure she's up to the challenge.

What makes me optimistic about the movie is that it seems intent on doing what one of my favorite books, Blankets, does so beautifully: reminding us that love, real love, is heartbreaking whether or not it lasts, and regardless of whether it's requited. (The movie's lovely tagline offers a clue: "This is not a love story, it's a story about love.") Whether it's easier to be the adored or the adorer is an open question, but to open yourself so wide emotionally is always a trial. Of course, it's a trial that's good for us, but how many times will we submit to it before we turn away forever?

Charlyne Yi, the heroine of Paper Heart (which also stars Michael Cera, and is also at SIFF), thinks she's done with love. The film's mock-documentary approach was hard for me to grasp at first, based only on the trailer; I thought it was a fictionalization of a real relationship between Yi and Cera. In any case, Yi might well stand in for the cynical viewer who's ready to snipe at the first false note in a romcom. Justin Long giving a last-minute speech on Ginnifer Goodwin's doorstep, confessing his true love? Yeah, whatever. Paper Heart seems to be saying that even if we give up on chasing love, there's nothing stopping love from coming after us when we least expect it.

Finally, Adam (at SIFF as well) reveals the personality quirks that populate ordinary romcoms (Sally's habit of ordering everything on the side in When Harry Met Sally..., for example) to be molehills compared to the mountainous task of loving someone with bigger challenges. The film's title character has Asperger's, and the trailer suggests that his condition gets the kind of treatment -- sympathetic, but not sugarcoated -- that 500 Days and Paper Heart try to give romance in general. I've not yet seen any of these films, but I have reason to believe that they could help revitalize one of my favorite genres. Here's hoping.

Another unconventional romcom

Paper Heart joins 500 Days of Summer among upcoming films with a common purpose: enlivening that (arguably) stalest of genres, the romantic comedy.

The Craig's List personal ad from hell

Thanks to Leyna for pointing out this gem.