From The Envoy #5 (fall 08)

2008-09 NBA Preview
A Few Big Changes, Same Results

Thomas Sodano
Sports Editor

It’s been a long summer, but finally (finally!) the 2008-09 NBA season is within shooting range. I’m setting my feet for the jumper and this is what I see:



Northwest:
1. Utah Jazz. The Jazz will be among the elite teams in the West. Deron Williams and Carlos Boozer gained confidence and experience while playing in the Beijing Olympics, but my biggest concern here is their team defense.



2. Denver Nuggets. The Nuggets will never run out of offense with Iverson and Anthony on the floor, but much like the Jazz, I question their defense. Losing Marcus Camby to the Clippers will hurt their front line, but with starters Kenyon Martin and Nene, along with the newly acquired hustle of Renaldo Balkman and Chris Andersen, they should be able to pick up the slack.











3. Portland Trail Blazers. The Blazers are almost there, but they don’t have enough depth for my liking. Greg Oden will contend for Rookie of the Year and Brandon Roy will continue to mold his game towards superstardom, but I just don’t see them going anywhere in the playoffs.







4. Minnesota Timberwolves. I give the Wolves 30 wins at best. They definitely won’t be a boring team to watch with Mike Miller and Rookie Kevin Love in the lineup, but they just won’t be very good.

5. Oklahoma City Thunder. Sadly, the Seattle Supersonics are no more and the Thunder won’t make much noise during their first season in Oklahoma City. Kevin Durant is a year older, but the team is hardly better than last season when they finished 20-62.

Pacific:
1. Los Angeles Lakers. The Lakers have an old school roster with versatile guards and solid big men. Kobe Bryant is undeniably one of the best to ever play the game and after a bitter loss last year in the finals the Lakers will come out swinging. Stacked with talent and experience, they have to be considered a favorite in the West, but their questionable toughness is my biggest concern.

2. Phoenix Suns. Age is a prime factor for the Suns and their biggest concern is staying healthy. But if they can harness the power of their potentially unstoppable half-court offense then they will surprise many people.

3. Los Angeles Clippers. The Clips made a lot of changes in the offseason, which is always a good thing after going 23-59. Baron Davis is the player to watch here as the 29-year-old returns home to L.A. I would love to get excited about this team and say they will win 40 games, but it’s the Clippers and I’m quite certain that won’t happen.



4. Sacramento Kings. The golden days in Sac-town are a thing of the past. Let’s just hope they make it back there again in the future.

5. Golden State Warriors. Losing Baron Davis is huge.

Southwest:
1. San Antonio Spurs. This is probably the toughest division in the league and I’m reluctant to place the Spurs on top especially with Manu Ginobili expected to be sidelined until mid-December after ankle surgery. But the Spurs have been battle tested time and time again and I still like their chances.

2. New Orleans Hornets. Led by the best point guard in the league in Chris Paul, I will confidently call this team a title contender. They have a very strong starting five and have shown that they can bump heads with the best in the league. Their key is to stay healthy because they don’t have exceptional depth.

3. Dallas Mavericks. The Mavericks have a great team and they need to wake up before it’s too late. With new coach Rick Carlisle calling the plays they will make it back to the playoffs, but they are likely lose in the first round once again.



4. Houston Rockets. The Rockets look wonderful on paper, but I’m predicting that they are just outside the bracket of contention. Whether it’s a devastating injury to a key player or the mental breakdown of a leader, something will hold them back.

5. Memphis Grizzles. The Grizzles made some good moves in the offseason, but as long as they are in the Western Conference they won’t make any moves in the win column.

Atlantic:
1. Boston Celtics. I really hate to call repeats, but that is exactly what I am doing here for Boston. With Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, and Ray Allen still on the roster, the Celtics seem destined to be the next dynasty.



2. Toronto Raptors. The Raptors picked up veteran Jernaine O’Neal which adds depth to their front line along with big men Chris Bosh and Andrea Bargnani. If they stay healthy, Toronto will have a nice run in the playoffs.

3. New Jersey Nets. I think (or maybe I just hope) that the Nets will surprise a few people this season. Despite being in rebuilding mode after trading Jason Kidd and Richard Jefferson, the Nets have a lot of young talent. But with young talent comes inexperience so it will be up to Vince Carter and Devin Harris to keep the Nets running in the right direction.



4. Philadelphia 76ers. The Sixers will definitely have another 40-win season at least, but in the ever-improving Eastern Conference I’m not confident that Elton Brand is enough to catapult this team into contention.

5. New York Knicks. Mike D’Antoni is new on the bench, but there are still too many familiar faces on the floor. Expect some exciting games at the Garden, but the Knicks are still the Knicks and nowadays that’s not a good thing.



Central:
1. Cleveland Cavaliers. The Cavaliers are out to prove that their finals appearance two years ago wasn’t a fluke. Lebron James is a year older and with most of last years roster still in tact the chemistry should be there.



2. Detroit Piston. Billups, Prince, Wallace, and Hamilton are all back which means another monster season for Detroit. With their playoff (and championship) tested roster the Pistons are among the best and most feared teams in the league.



3. Chicago Bulls. I’m not really sure what happened to the Bulls last year at 33-49, but I don’t think it will happen again. First year coach Vinny Del Negro gives this group a chance to start fresh.

4. Milwaukee Bucks. The Bucks made a great move getting Richard Jefferson, but they aren’t likely to do big things this year. They will, however, improve upon their 26-56 record from last year.

5. Indiana Pacers. I have faith that Larry Bird is taking this team somewhere good. I just don’t know where that somewhere is or how they’re getting there.

Southeast:
1. Orlando Magic. The Magic still look very good this year and should win this division quite easily. Dwight Howard can bang with any big man in the league and Hedo Turkoglu loves taking the big shot under pressure.



2. Atlanta Hawks. Mike Bibby continues to give valuable leadership to this young team as they look to make it past the first round of the playoffs this season.

3. Charlotte Bobcats. I can’t believe I’m putting the Bobcats above Washington and Miami in this division, but behind new coach Larry Brown this team has a very big up side.



4. Washington Wizards. Gilbert Arenas is back this year, but the Wizards are still missing the solid big man they need to contend come playoff time.

5. Miami Heat. It should be fun to watch Michael Beasley in his first NBA season, but beyond that this team is up in the air for me. They of course have All-Star Dwyane Wade, but much like the Wizards they are lacking big men in a league dominated by giants.

goodbye summer time

..tonight my fingertips are fire

i am too beautifully aloof to fuck with your miserable consciousness

there are days in this existence when it feels like time is eaten alive by wristwatches and irrelevance. and today is exactly one of those days. you see, 2 o'clock wakes make way to an afternoon of anticipation. sexy texts on stoops of gasoline dreams only to open potent cans of lateness.

yesterday i was a firm footed two-weeks notice. today i am a loyal employee leaking good evenings and yes sirs. but god be damned if i am ever to break bread with that man of success and misery. i am too beautifully aloof. "Cheer up, your not dead yet." not for nothing, imagine a motorcycle flipped on 9th avenue evenings. table cloths and chardonnay replaced by blood and concussions. imagine that. flash. flash. flaaaaaaassshhhh.

im a babylon-bound backpack maverick. paperclips. staples. and rubber bands. im just trying to keep myself together. im no different than you. maybe. that is, of course, assuming we are all crazy. im obsessed with colors messy, alphabet soup, and bass placement. my baby calls me bito. i like that. but for now, it's back to oblivion.

oblivion

i might leave tomorrow

oblivion

fuck it kid. i might leave today

and so began my summer month of circus..

i havent blogged in quite a minute. something like a serious sixty seconds.

i simply havent been inspired to visit this, my space on the web world wide.

today is no exception.

except for this exception.

god bless presidente.

alphabet soup

today i will create consciously. please. please consciously create. tonight. because i am tired and weary of blaming free falling fate for my misfortunes. my misfortunes rather are formulated from lazy creation. unconscious. non-sensual sense. in a sense i suppose. i am supposed to accept responsibility for my supposed state of being. my eyes are wide open homieee. and im only lonely because my definition of loneliness tells me that i am . in fact, i am so far from reality that my mind wonders through seasons in daydreams which take place anywhere but here. you have to ask me twice always. the first time merely wakes me from my sleepwalk. the second time i listen closely and look you dead in the soul. i dont see auras but i feel vibes like the illest symbol sample. some people just need to stop sucking so much. straight up. on some seriously serious shit. some people just need to stop sucking. i can find beauty in most creatures, but it's just that i hate you all regardless. so please excuse my rudeness. music is my messiah. i am at home only when im bounded by my headphones.

it is then that i can say to myself, "if this isnt great then wat is?" exactly. tonight i am vastly happy because i am consciously creating my patience in an art form embedded. let's give credit where credit is due. finger fucking this alphabet soup loosely. this type of pleasure shouldnt be allowed. but then again, im single so who the hell is going to stop me. certainly not my conscious creation... because this is exactly where she has taken me in the first place.

soo...why stop now?

..on second thought why not?

fart around

"Then I go outside and there is a mailbox. And i feed the pages to the giant blue bullfrog. And it says, 'Ribbit.'
And I go home. And i have had one hell of a good time.
Electronic communities build nothing. You wind up with nothing. We are dancing animals. How beautiful is it to get up and go out and do something. We are here on earth to fart around. Don't let anybody tell you any different."
-Kurt Vonnegut

The summer that stood. still.

lost in an evolution of self. sometimes it feels like ive done nothing so far but be. i exist for the sake of existence. and nothing else. im just a blob of blasphemous action and untapped potential.. sleeping soundly on a hell-bound greyhound. blah blah. ask for a third charm chance. the spare key was lost beneath a bluestone. life is liquid, smokescreens, and headphonesssss. fuck a phobia. this is the summer of sunday seances tallied on top of a nightshifted image. and that is exactly all for today. thank you very much.

if there's love...

if there's love... it must be three o'clock in the morning. because afternoon moods dismantle anniversary fevers sweating beneath apocalyptic ambitions. granted, the human mind is plainly limited in this contrived society of unbridled delusion. under the influence of institutionalized violence, finance, and dynasty. but worst case scenario...i wake up in a coma. socially awkward. walking towards infinity. the almighty trinity of instantly limitless faction. the fact is falsely fiction. this paragraph is in fact half assed blasphemy. and karma is impacting reaction to the most lucratively grisly degree. feeeed me.

please...

ok so i feel like doom. what exactly do you say at this time of day? besides goodbye, i guess. welcome to my world girlie. they say bartenders get mucho booty, but best believe i mix many more drinks than sensual juices. everyday is a new life to the wise man. perhaps that's exactly why i am twenty-one and a half years of age. still living this perfectly virgin existence. but every time i blink i dream and like every other manhattan bound commuter i bleed. freely. easily. and piece by piece i am indeed reaching combustion. which is exactly my fateful path.

that's why i laugh. 80's baby. 90's child. two-thousand something scumbag. i miss stick stickly, ninja turtles, and erckle. i think i got stung by a bee in my sleep. believe me. i breathe easy. live leisurely. and dock drama. leave it to lincoln. when one basement apartment is boxed up a block dies. for me, december is a long way off, but until then i'll ponder my portions and begin planning how the fuck i will afford life. but for now, i'm happy drying my socks on the cable box.

it's like that

indebted forever to doubleshots.. how else would i get through my day awake?? rather i would sleepwalk soundly.. simply getting by, if even. the owner is a racist fuck dickhead piece of shit. but i walked with 266 dollars cash yesterday so i'll be biting my lip at least for a bit longer.. the rent is soon due.

the illest look can say more than verbiage ever could possibly conjure. hate is a powerful pistol. strapped in the stomach of whitebread unreality television living. it's a damn shame that it's come to this. or perhaps it in fact never wasn't where it's actually at now. love some, the others can eat the pieces of poison supremacy leaking from blistering lips. i will love them for that at least. it's assholes like that who keep life relative.

aderol, alcohol, and rice crispy treats= raw synthetic emotion at 6 o'clock in the morning (the night owl's happy hour). welcome to the life of an individual immersed in amens, achoos, and god blessed sentences. I'm sick to my lungs. i breathe deeply and it turns out the vibe is polluted. Crushing my creative freedom. but that's why im in love with my headphones. i drown out noise with noise homie. pick your poison.

the truth of the matter is, i dont know how to slow down. i woke up on this friday afternoon foggy as fuck. birds chirping, trucks burping, children cursing, and bicycle bells jingling. everything may be bigger in texas, but everything is louder in brooklyn. i guess big things come in small packages.

forget the focus, i'm going to chew on the lyrics of a homegrown inspiration. isn't. it. bliss? her lips were like like like like like like like like like like that.

yea. it's like that.

peace. easy.

what is clogging my cranium today?? well, my coffee is cold on purpose and my middle finger tastes like folklore. my headphones look like hubcaps and my stack of dollar bills jingle like nickels. dime me. please. my glasses seem to be smudged, but as it turns out I'm not wearing my glasses today. what's smudged is clearly my vision of that, this, and the other. what's on tap this evening?? sunshine and sexy semantics. sarcastic spasms. blah blah blah. yada yada yada.

welcome back beautiful. may your tip bucket forever be full of guaranteed pension. dental coverage, workers comp, and paid personal days. i can't make it into work today because i have to trim my fingernails and fall asleep on my rooftop. underneath city stars minimal.. upon my awakening i will ponder monumental affliction.

i have to wear all black and shave daily. it fucks with my image to be honest. My mumblings are way too bubbly and my cheeks are too cheeky. but if this radical mindset manages to outlast the indulgence of independently endless searches towards sanctity then perhaps i've underestimated the power of the supreme. in fact, i am at peace. i guess i just enjoy living messy.

god. bless.

Word. Is. Birthed.

this isss exactlyyy whererere i was tonightttt. deeeeep beneeeath an eeeveeennninnngg. seeemmminnngggllyyy.

"We are here on earth to fart around. Don't let anyone tell you any different." kurt vonnegut.

word. is. birthed.

soundtrack . . .

i would call it an uncanny landing. sitting on the stoop of last spring in jamaica, new york on 146th st. i took the LIRR from flatbush avenue. Destination: April, 2007. Roundtrip. $12.50 because its rush hour. thank you very much mister. Something good is going to happen to you today. i cant get the beat out of my head. and i dont want to . i dont waannt to. something good is going to happen to you today. to me? im still waiting. it's 7:45 pm and the daylight is dwindling. I'm still waiting. but then again, i never was very romantic.

it is spring break and i painted a picture today. I painted a picture of what it was, what it is, and what it will be. perhaps. Spring break in brooklyn is playing ball for the first time since september because im old and retired. iced coffee in the morning and presidente on my stoop in the evening. im an old soul and i like to be alone. so fuck you. and i mean that in the best possible way. i look pissed because i am. i think life is ugly. dreams are better. but i love ugly. and everything is more beautiful with a good soundtrack.

if you like what you see you will smile. i laugh alone when i am walking down the street because i am lost inside my head. lost in April 2007. on 146th street in jamaica, new york. on that brick stoop with the red front door and the doorbell that needs to be pushed twice. maybe I'll try knocking. no one is home. or at least not the person i was hoping to find. back into the dollar cab because i forgot my metro card. but the dollar cab costs two. life is funny that way.

so it goes..

so..i swear I'm not completely crazy. I feel like making sense today.

I write for a hunter publication called Plateau Magazine. it features underground music artists throughout new york city. if you havent seen it around campus and it sounds like something you might want to read, look at, contribute to, or cut up for arts and crafts then ask me for a copy because i have a small stack left of the most recent issue.... i recently interviewed a hip-hop/dance/punk group called Ninjasonik for the next issue. check them out at myspace.com/ninjasonik. they are strangely different, somewhat silly, yet incredibly relevant. a killer combination. very cool individuals.

I am a bartender looking for a job. if you know anyone who is hiring please hit me up. i make a mean Alabama Slammer..

my brother emailed me the other day and asked me a great question. he simply asked "what happens when you lose your balance?" a little confused with the question, i said, you fall down... which i thought is a good answer. most people might agree...when you lose your balance, you fall. But in his response he asked me why do people think negatively and assume that when you lose your balance you fall? why cant you regain your balance and remain standing. that blew my mind!! he is a true philosopher and i love it. he asks me shit like this all the time. he is 15.

i literally and randomly bumped into this girl i know on 3rd ave. in manhattan today. i am ridiculously in love with this girl and she knows it. but she is in love with an asshole who used to be a model... so it goes.

Today was a beautiful day. and it seems to be giving way to a pleasant evening. The End.

and now it seems my dreaming is written

sometimes life throws you curveballs... sometimes i wish i was. somewhere...else. sometimes i wonder what the fuck one o'clock in the morning entails anyway. sometimes. sometimes i play air guitar, piano, and drums. sometimes i meditate and i feel better. sometimes i try to meditate and feel worse. sometimes i eat a sandwich and get heart burn. sometimes i eat the empty bottle and get glass stuck between my teeth. and then my gums are bleeding.
sometimes i feel like saying sometimes. sometimes. my headphones are glued to my skull.. all the time. every moment frozennnnnnn. i need to be up at 7:05 am. 7:06 if I'm feeling lucky. i will hold my breath on the train because it's good luck. over the bridge to ambiguity. brreeeeaaathhheeee eeeeaassssyyy. believe me, im a one hit wonder if that. if that. if that.

if.

that.

can i borrow twenty bucks? ....fumbling through my pockets i knuckle a couple crumbs. a quarter. and a lighter. a ballpoint pen. a tumbleweeeeeed.

monday morning in march.. it's raining rusty thumbtacks. in a city where glossy gumstains is nature at its grandest. my coffeee is cold. i think. but maybe my tongue is numb. the bass is beeeellllllllooooowwwww sea level. i love it. yum yum. muffin.

apology accepted. except. id.

thinking critically

not everything they tell you on the television is true..children of this united states of blatant disregard. If I'm lucky the earth is flat like my senses.. and fox news is the shittiest compilation of supposedly relevant and unbiased information this side of my sanity..

i think im in love again. that's the third time in two weeks. I have nightmares on wax, but i daydream on cds. Im rambling..ok. lets get to the point.

....Think critcally. Please. what I'm trying to say is, your professor is not a prophet. if your going to pay good dinero for an kollidge egukashion you better damn well pay attention. at the very least. please. question everything you read, see, hear, smell, and observe. whether it is embedded in cambridge edited text or written on the walls of your favorite bathroom stall..question every bit of information for what it's worth. I'm not asking you to be that obnoxiously pedantic motherfucker in the third row who sits far enough away from the front to play it cool, but close enough to stick his dumb grill in every sentence seeping from your lecturer's lips. Dont be a jerk.. im just sayin. Engage yourself. By being actively involved you will process more knowledge. and knowledge can move mountains. any idiot can move a milk carton.... im just sayin.

I'm speaking to myself really. i've been told that all good writers are writing for one person and one person only. whether it's your dog, your mother in law, or your mail man. if you try to write for more than one person, nobody gets the point and everybody loses. today i am writing for me. so fuck you. pardon my language, i happen to be a very passionate individual. and fuck is a very passionate word. hence, i use it often.

when i grow up i wish to be a child. I would like to be a toys are us middle aged man. but i got overdue bills to pay and nothing is ever exactly what it seems. matter of fact it's usually ridiculously different. For example.. time is not real. it is not 8:51PM on a Sunday right now. it is anytime on everyday youve ever known to exist. i dont believe in history books or fortune tellers. Everything is in the now. Then is tomorrow. and tomorrow is genesis.

does that make me crazy? perhaps. But Dick Cheney doesnt believe in Global Warming. apparantly it's a myth. well, this automobile runs on alcohol, caffeine, and pink floyd remastered. so, i like to think im doing my part. i recyle my Metro everyday goddamnit. god... damn... it. well, as long as we dont beat him to it....

music is my messiah

God bless the remix.. It's what keeps my headache plagued Q train AM commutes sweetly calm and clean. Although i like my music messy, my playlist eventually cracks a cornerstone moment..aka, everyone's favorite Ms Jones in the morning regular head banger. Although I don't condone making love in the club ill give in every now and then to a sensual seduction.

Today ive listened to Tabacco's recent release featuring Aesop Rock about 33 1/2 times and it hasnt gotten old. When it ends again, I'll run it back because i savor the synths. Ridiculous. My favorite author and artist Kurt Vonnegut once said the only proof he needed to know that God did indeed exist was music. Mr. Vonnegut has surely shaken the hand of God one early evening last April and thanked him for his favorite Beatles record. And I thank him for Timequake.

Look mom, I'm a writer. I keep my sneakers clean and I brush my teeth twice a day. How delicious. I drink an iced mocha daily and i like sweet and salty kettlecorn.

35 and counting. " this is not your parents' bio-organic war." Amen.

Think critcally because the warning on the carton isnt always correct. I smoked a ciggarette yesterday because i spoke with my ex-girlfriend and she got me stressed about life. i bummed it off a beautiful bird outside of bloomingdales....and by the time i reached the filter i got her number and i forgot about my ex-girlfriend. The moral of the story is that ciggarettes work every time. Until they kill you. Wait no, especially when they kill you. what could be more zen then the afterlife?

37 times. i think. today feels like spring but somehow my knuckles are still ashey. i have shit to do now. so music (my messiah) willing, i will visit this, my space on the web wide, again soon.

Until then...