Calendar flips. 2025 ends tonight. 2026 starts tomorrow.
No fireworks from me. No top-ten lists. No “new year, new me” slogans.
Just this: the pact is still in force.
Pactum Batteria.
The agreement I made with myself a long time ago and keep renewing every time I pick up sticks.
Show up.
Play.
Listen harder than you hit.
Show up.
Play.
Listen harder than you hit.
Some years the pact feels heavier.
Gigs dry up. Body creaks.
Gigs dry up. Body creaks.
Other years, lighter. The room breathes your rhythm.
Most years it’s both.
Hate and love braided so tight you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
2026 will be another mixed year.
Guaranteed.
Guaranteed.
But the pact doesn’t care about the year. It only cares that I keep it.
The beat goes on.
See you in 2026.
Pactum Batteria
December 31, 2025
December 31, 2025