Today could be one of the best days ever

Why? Two reasons: 1. Tonight is the beginning of CMJ Music Marathon, for which i have attained a badge, free of charge.
2. The start of the NBA season, for which i will (most likely) deviate from music to write about throughout the season. Since no games have started yet, i'm still game to make some (not so) expert predictions for the upcoming season. Expect some CMJ updates this week.
These predictions are dedicated to Bryan Gattis.
Eastern Conference
Atlantic Division: New Jersey Nets. Kind of by default - i don't expect them to win more than 44 games, but this division is so weak that you have to pick them. i think the Celts and the Raptors should probably be better teams with their depth and talent, but they each have an achilles heel: for the C's, it's Doc Rivers, one of the most confounding coaches in the league. Seemingly with no confidence in a single player on his team other than Paul Pierce, he lacks the leadership or consistency to coax this team into a division title. For the Raps, it's inexperience. Give it two years and some of these Euro dudes (Bargnani, Parker, Garbajosa, Calderon) are going to be studs. And don't forget a guy named Bosh. TJ Ford is pretty slick too. But it needs time.

Central Division: Detroit Pistons. The toughest division in the league got tougher with every team being all around solid. But why bet against the Stones? Losing an aging Ben Wallace frees up the offense to move and they still have some lock down defenders in Chauncey Billups and Tayshaun Prince. Look for Jason Maxiell to make an impact.

Southeast Division: Miami Heat. Defending champs. Shaq. Wade. They won't win the conference because they tend to cruise a little bit in the regular season, but that's just to gear up for the regular season. And with a division that includes Atlanta and Charlotte, that's going to be okay.

And so the playoff 8 will go:
1. Detroit Pistons
2. Miami Heat
3. New Jersey Nets
4. Cleveland Cavaliers
5. Chicago Bulls
6. Toronto Raptors
7. Orlando Magic
8. Washington Wizards

Western Conference
Northwest Division: Denver Nuggets. The weakest division out west has a lot of possibilities. With health, Utah becomes a contender, if Randy Foye plays like a ROY then the Timberwolves have a shot, and if the Sonics can somehow learn how to play defense, then i'd take them. But the Nuggets have the best point in the division in Andre Miller, the best wing in the division in 'Melo, and a deep (albeit injury prone) frontcourt: Camby, Nene, Kenyon Martin.

Pacific Division: Phoenix Suns. Can't bet against 'em. Even if Amare is ineffective, they still have the reigning 2-time MVP in Nash, and one of the deepest frontcourts in all of ball with Marion (most underrated player in the league?), Diaw, and Kurt Thomas. The kids are just gonna get better too: Marcus Banks and Leandro Barbosa stabilize the point when Nash rests and Raja Bell is tough as nails. Plus the league keeps getting smaller and faster, just like the Suns like it.

Southwest: San Antonio Spurs. Toughest division out west even if Memphis falls off like i expect. NO/OK got serious about winning, Dallas got deeper, and (supposedly) T-Mac and Yao are healthy. Plus Houston added playoff stud Bonzi Wells and consumate teammate do-it-all guy in Shane Battier. But consistency wins, and even though the Spurs are getting older, i expect that veteran savvy combined with the poise of Tony Parker to get them the division crown. Even though they won't be bringing home any hardware this year.

The playoff 8 out west:
1. Phoenix Suns
2. San Antonio Spurs
3. Denver Nuggets
4. Dallas Mavericks
5. Los Angeles Clippers
6. Houston Rockets
7. Los Angeles Lakers
8. NO/OK Hornets

Conference Finals? In the east, it's Pistons over Heat and out west it's Phoenix over Dallas. Small ball is back and it suits the Suns just fine: the absence of Ben Wallace means the defense is good, but not Big Ben good and there's no one on the Pistons to counter Amare and Marion. Phoenix brings home it's first title over the Pistons in 7.

MVP: LeBron James. It's going to be tough for Steve to repeat again, especially with the return of Amare and Kurt Thomas from injuries. And as long as Wade has Shaq, he probably won't win it. Tim Duncan is still the best player in the game, but he's declining, and the team is Tony's this year. And KG misses the playoffs, again. Outside shot: Chauncey Billups.

That's all kids, enjoy the season. Check back in June to rub it in my face when all of this goes wrong.

Wow

Just a quick update of something that i found on pitchfork; a lot of you may have already heard it:
http://boss.streamos.com/download/federal/aspen/ondcp100606_jenny.mov

according to this PSA, smoking weed has a direct correlation with indie rock, image, and popularity. At least, if i'm not too high to understand it right now. But seriously, what? Oh yeah, no one but poseurs listen to indie rock, and when we all wake up from our smoke-induced haze, we'll all go back to listening to what normal people listen to. As soon as i eat like ten pizzas and this buzz wears off, i'm going to buy some Creed records.

More recs, more personal tragedies

All i really want to write about is music, but i can't seem to find the time. This Friday my freakin wallet got stolen as i was drunkenly riding the subway home from Manhattan to Brooklyn. This is the first time anything like this has happened to me, and it sucks. i've spent as much time dealing with that in the last few days as i have anything else: calling banks to cancel ATM cards, filing reports at the police station, etc. The police station here in Crown Heights was probably the strangest experience and the first experience i've truly had with how slow beaurocracy can move: the DMV is (not unfairly) always the common target, but at the police station i had to file a lost possessions report, which started with me being directed to an office, presumably the sole purpose of which is to file such reports. It began with a woman wandering around the office looking for a pen in just about every place possible (roughly 15 minutes) while her son asked her questions and dismantled a pen at the desk. i had a pen in my bag, but i wanted to see how long this could go on. Then, once the pen was found, the next ten minutes (approximately) were spent looking for the form to file a stolen possessions report, as i had said my wallet was stolen. After this, and when she started asking me questions, i learned that since i hadn't actually SEEN someone steal my wallet, that i had to file a lost possessions form. More form-searching ensued. However, when i told her that my banks had confirmed that someone had attempted to check the balance at a Brooklyn ATM at 3:45 on Saturday morning (thus indicating that someone did indeed have my wallet), we had to switch back to Stolen Possessions, and then eventually settling back on Lost Possessions. If nothing else, this provided me with some much needed theatre of the absurd, which somehow was funny to me. i don't know how i managed to still have a sense of humour by this point, but i did. A phone call from a woman with a thick accent who could not pronounce "Banknorth" claimed to be from Visa, but once she started asking me for my account information it became clear that this was fraud and meant further calls to actual Banknorth, and thus more time on hold.

But i really want to talk about music, and i don't have to get up in the morning tomorrow, at least not as early as usual. So, the point is that i've seen two great shows in the last two weeks, one really amazing and one good enough. Two Mondays ago i saw Islands live, and Islands should not be missed. The band takes the stage in all white and features a Rastafarian looking barefoot bassist, a shaggy-haired hipster guitarist who doubles on bass clarinet, and two Asian violin players who look like math nerds but wind up rocking out the hardest. In a move that requires a buttload of moxie, the band actually begins with "Renaud," the bonus track/secret song from their debut that opens with nearly 5 minutes of rain. Granted they skipped the rain live, but it's not exactly what i would expect a band to play live, especially not as the opener. But it wound up being the best song of the night, in a lot of ways. A lot of bands want their first song to rock like crazy: Islands didn't need to. i had assumed they would start with "Swans." i'm way more glad it was "Renaud." Also, the new songs sound fuckin insane. If i were familiar with them, i think they would have been the highlights. Instead i have to merely predict that the next album is going to tear shit up. They looked incredibly in sync too, so i'm wondering if this incarnation of Islands, which have never been too concrete, especially since J'aime left, is the permanent rendition. Damn. i want to say the best show i've seen this year, but i've also seen Rx Bandits and Wolf Parade. Definitely the best show i've seen in New York (better than Girl Talk? yeah, i think so...i mean, they're a fucking rock band, and he's a laptop).

Last week i got to go see TV on the Radio, with Grizzly Bear, except that we missed Grizzly Bear because we drank 24 oz Budweisers underneath an information kiosk in the park at Union Square. Probably not worth it, as their new album "Yellow House" is quite good (better than "Horn of Plenty," for sure), but fun nonetheless. TV on the Radio was great, but i think i probably liked them less because i don't know their tunes like i do Islands. i've never heard "Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes" but i've heard that even the band themselves aren't satisfied with the way it came out. i think "Return to Cookie Mountain" is a really dynamic record which will probably challenge for Top 10 this year, and those songs sound great live. i'm a total sucker for "I Was a Lover," so i would say that that was the song of the night, but that's a totally biased and uninformed opinion. The crowd was, unfortunately confounding. If there's one thing you can count on in NYC, it's a crowd that's too damn cool to show that they like the band they're watching. Anyone like Nightmare of You? They've got a great line: "Start a band / Throw a brick / You lazy hipsters make me sick / Don't clap your hands / Don't start to dance / Don't let them know that you're a fan." Sounds about right. It certainly seemed like Adam and i were in the serious minority by rocking out, but we like to think that the band appreciated it. He's a way bigger TVotR fan than i am but we both caught the bug of the band's energy. Too bad most other people didn't.

Some plugs: i'm listening to the new record by the Blow right now, who i'm (hopefully) going to be interviewing for daytrotter.com later this week. Look for that, i'll keep you posted. It's a really cool record of synth pop with female vocals. Good melodies, quirkier than Postal Service, probably due to Khaela Maricich leanings more toward conceptual and performance art.

A diss: i got the new Swan Lake, which i've been anticipating like kids want Christmas. A dream indie rock collab between Spencer Krug (Wolf Parade, Sunset Rubdown), Dan Bejar (Destroyer, New Pornos), and Carey Mercer (Frog Eyes). It's a total bummer. The track that pitchfork posted this summer, "All Fires," is the best song on the album, and there's really only three quality tracks. It's awash in unmelodic psychedelia, too many ideas and not concise at all. Much closer to Destroyer and Sunset than Wolf Parade, it just doesn't really go anywhere. No melodies, lots of big thinking but no real attempts to create focused music. It's unfortunate, because 1. This could have been so good, and 2. this is keeping Spencer from making Wolf Parade. And we all need more Wolf Parade.

Home Just Won't Quite Feel Like Home Anymore

It's been a heavy day. Normally on a day like today, i'd be posting about last night's TV on the Radio show, at which i got mind-numbingly wasted, but by now it seems so insignificant in the scheme of things. i guess today started out a little weirder than the average wednesday because i woke up sweating on Adam's couch with the Black Keys blaring, signalling to me that it was time to catch a train home. It took me an hour to get from the upper east side back to Brooklyn, and by about 10:00 i was back in my own bed, still sweating and nursing a pretty fantastic hangover. i had to go to work tonight at 6 and it was my full intention to sleep as long as possible. i was awakened throughout the morning on various occasions by cars pulling up in the street and blaring rap and reggaeton, which was so loud that everyone in Brooklyn must have heard that new Ludacris song today. it ain't easy to sleep under such conditions. i was awakened more thoroughly at 2:10 by my phone vibrating, and saw that it was my mom. For whatever reason, i instantly understood that this was news about Chester. My cat has been inexplicably sick for about five weeks now, and on Monday my parents drove him to Tufts so that they could finally figure out what's been wrong with the guy, who for my entire life i've affectionately referred to as "buddy" even though his name is not Buddy. i didn't pick up the phone at 2:10, because the reggaeton had finally stopped and i wanted to get some real sleep. i understood what was happening, but between sleep deprivation and probably still being drunk, i wasn't able to do much about it so i decided to let it wait. At about 3:30, the reggaeton had begun again, and i rose, took my phone and went and sat in the bathroom where the music from the street couldn't reach me as much. My worst fears had been confirmed: a biopsy had revealed that Chester had cancer of the liver and pancreas, and my parents had given them permission to put him to sleep.

It was undoubtedly a painful struggle for him, and while i don't know when exactly cells started mutating and corrupting his insides, i do know that when we returned from a vacation in Colorado on September 5th, he showed no signs of illness. i moved to New York on the 6th, and that was the last time i would see Chester as the healthy affectionate kitty he had always been. Apparently his condition devolved incredibly quickly: i returned home on the 23rd of September for less than 24 hours. He was at that point mostly not moving or talking, two things that you could never have kept him from doing before. Before, all you had to do was look at Chester and he would start purring; that weekend i got him to purr once, for about 30 seconds. He didn't seem interested in letting anyone pet him, and though he would briefly show interest, he was more interested in hiding at that point, clearly uncomfortable no matter what he did. The last time i spent with him he was upstairs, doing this sort of half-sit/half-lie down that he consistently did that weekend, obviously in pain. i just lay down on the carpet and sat with him because we couldn't do anything else. i'm sure if there was one thing he wanted it was to tell someone what was wrong so that they could fix him. For five weeks before he went to Tufts they couldn't figure out what was going on. First he was diagnosed with a broken rib and a urinary tract infection, the latter for which he was prescribed antibiotics. When he showed no progress, and started breaking out in sores, he was given antihistamines for what was apparently an allergy. The the biopsy determined that the lesions were not cancerous, it is assumed that they are somehow linked to the presence of the cancer. By the end, my mom said, he was unrecognizable, and could barely lift his head. They had decided to end his pain because there was little that could be done and they didn't deem it fair to put him through it anymore. When my grandfather got cancer in 1998, it paralleled Chester in how quickly it took him. Diagnosed with a brain tumor in April, he was gone by October. But for some reason, i felt entirely prepared for that. We watched him devolve from a quick witted man into someone again unrecognizable, but we knew all along about the cancer. With Chester we never knew that, and though i was prepared for this, i also kind of always assumed that he would come back and be back to his normal self, my buddy, by the next time i was home.

We got Chester and his sister Snickers in 1995 when they were kittens. I had just finished 5th grade and our old cat, Oliver, had died months before at the age of, i think, 21. Chester and i had always had a bond, and though when the cats were younger i had frequently stated that he was my best friend, as i grew older and went off to school it became more and more obvious how true this was. Dog owners often refer to their canine companions as man's best friend. i don't think that anything could be more applicable to Chester, who always greeted you at the door and was extremely affectionate and exceptionally vocal. He could be confounding too; he never learned to be picked up or to sit in your lap. He would demand attention and when you picked him up, start purring and simultaneously squirming to get down. As soon as you put him down he would ask to be picked up again. He would often sit at the opposite end of the couch from you and purr, and look at you as if to say, "why aren't you petting me?" If you sat too close he would get down and go repeat the action from the other side. But i've never known a cat who loved people as much as Chester did, and i've never had a friend that was so loyal to me. We had this playscape that the cats loved when they were kittens. As they outgrew it, we kept it by the back window in the Farm Hill Rd house and Chester would sit on top of it and watch birds and squirrels. This was the one place where you could pet Chester for hours. He would lead you there and leap up and meow and start purring. When we moved to Bloomfield, we kept it by the back window for similar wildlife watching. Chester continued to lead me there when he really wanted attention.

Another confounding thing about Chester is that unlike his sister, who practically sleeps in my mom's arms, Chester would never sleep on the bed with someone. The night of the 5th, he slept on my bed for the first time in his 11 years. I had detected this summer that Chester seemed more attention-desperate than normal, and on more than one occasion wondered if somehow this was Chester knowing his end was coming. But on the 5th i didn't think about that, i was just completely floored that he would even do such a thing. It was out of character in terms of his actions, but not out of character for his personality. Whether or not he knew that he was getting sick this summer will never be known, but he often would let his big voice out in our great new house to announce that he wanted to both give and receive affection. That house will lie relatively quiet now, as i'm sure it has for my parents in the last 5 weeks, but i'm happy to know that they at least know what was killing him, and that he's not in pain tonight as he has been.

Some may find this humanization of an animal trite or silly, but i think it speaks to how important the presence of animals can be in our life, especially when we treat them as we want to be treated. Chester couldn't speak with me, but always seemed to have a keen understanding of what was going on with the people in his life. Yeakel and i often talk about how we're friends for life, and i don't doubt that. But today's reflections bring new meaning to the phrase. Chester was unflappable in his devotion to me, and he really was "my cat," the same way Snickers is my mom's cat, even though they are both family cats. i spent a lot of time away at college, but Chester never wavered in his devotion to me.

i guess i intended this to be some treatise about the temporality of life, or the transcendence of friendship, but i guess i wound up just rambling about something personal, which if you've ever read one of my college essays you'd understand is what i always wind up doing anyway. More than anything, i guess its a way to talk to "somone" since this city can be pretty lonely sometimes and i haven't really talked to anyone about this yet. But i suppose what i want to say more than anything is Chester, i'm glad you're not in pain and done suffering. Rest in peace, my best friend.