Trust is the Strategy

In IT projects, we talk endlessly about tools, frameworks, timelines, and efficiency. But the more I’ve seen, the clearer it becomes that none of it really works without trust. Trust is the strategy that keeps a project moving. Without it, you can bring in senior managers, even C-level executives, and still nothing changes; the cracks remain.

With juniors, it’s natural to expect some inefficiency. They’re learning, they’ll stumble, and with guidance, they grow. That’s manageable. But when trust starts slipping with seniors, it’s a different story. At that point, the issue isn’t efficiency anymore; it’s belief. If you’re questioning the intent, competence, or commitment of people who’ve been in the trenches for years, you’re essentially shaking the foundation of the team. Oversight doesn’t solve that. In fact, it often makes things worse.

I’ve seen how this plays out when the people dealing directly with the customer start to feel “we can push more.” Customers will always want more; that’s expected. The real challenge begins when internal teams lose faith in their own delivery colleagues. Instead of managing expectations, they push harder. Suddenly, the delivery team is stuck in defense mode, spending more energy proving they’re working hard than actually moving the project forward. That’s when progress stalls, not because of a lack of skill, but because trust has broken down.

So how do you build it back? It’s not through tighter control or more escalations. Trust is built when leaders choose to assume competence first, instead of assuming failure. It grows when effort is recognized and not brushed aside, even in difficult times. It strengthens when people can speak openly about blockers without fear of being blamed. It shows up when leaders protect their teams from unrealistic demands and educate customers about what’s truly possible. And it’s reinforced in the small things, celebrating small wins, being consistent, and standing by each other when things get tough.

It’s also a two-way street. Teams need to be transparent and accountable so customer-facing colleagues know they can rely on them. Managers need to communicate honestly with both sides, bridging the gap instead of widening it. And customers, too, will trust more when they feel they’re being dealt with honestly and consistently, even if the answer is sometimes “not now.”

In the end, project management is less about timelines and reports and more about creating an environment where people genuinely believe in each other. When trust is strong, juniors learn faster, seniors deliver better, and customers respect boundaries. When trust is weak, no amount of oversight or process will hold the project together.

I know I might sound like an optimist, maybe even like I’m romanticizing something soft and abstract, but after a long career, this is what I’ve come to believe. I used to be a pretty shrewd project manager, convinced that tighter control, sharper processes, and constant follow-up were the only way to get things done. My seniors would talk about trust, and I’d shrug it off. Now, 22 years later, I catch myself saying the exact same thing they once told me. And if a lesson stays with you that long, passed down through experience, then there must be truth in it, don't you think?

Rethinking Fast-Tracked Leadership

Let’s be honest, the world has a shortage of leaders. These days, the moment a company spots someone who looks smart, confident, or even a bit cocky, the reflex is the same: “Make him a leader.” If a young employee starts asking for a raise, the easiest way to justify it is to hand them a title, pile on additional responsibilities, and hope for the best. It feels like a shortcut - fill the leadership gap, keep them motivated, and move on. That’s not leadership development, that’s gambling.

Confidence is not equal to capability. Being confident or outspoken is not the same as being capable of leading people. Leadership requires emotional intelligence, patience, and the ability to lift others up. A three or four-year career professional rarely has the maturity to carry that weight.

Leadership isn’t a salary band. One of the worst habits is using leadership titles to justify higher pay. The signal this sends is toxic. Leadership equals money, not responsibility. People start chasing roles for the wrong reasons, and teams end up reporting to “leaders” who lack the skills to lead.

Skipping the growth curve breaks people. There’s a natural order to things, to learn, to stumble, to grow, and eventually to lead. When we rush someone straight into leadership, we deny them the space to make mistakes and build resilience. Suddenly, they’re responsible for others when they’re still figuring out how to manage themselves. That’s not development, that’s sabotage.

Experience still matters. In our rush, we’ve started undervaluing it. Yes, newer leaders today grow fast, faster than ever before. With endless information at their fingertips, constant content to learn from, and the acceleration of AI, they can pick up frameworks, strategies, and skills in months that used to take years. But there’s a difference between knowledge and wisdom. Experience is where judgment, perspective, and empathy are born. A leader who has experienced both failure and success develops a steadiness that no amount of early confidence or quick learning can replace. It’s the scar tissue of real-world decisions, the resilience built under pressure, and the humility gained from mistakes that truly shape leadership. We forget this at our own risk.

True leadership isn’t about being the smartest person in the room. It’s about making everyone else better. And that can’t be hacked or rushed. It takes time, humility, and experience. If we really want better leaders, we need to stop looking for shortcuts and start respecting the journey.

The Struggle Within

I’m 44, and most days, I feel old, tired, like I’m stuck somewhere between holding it all together and wondering what the hell the point of it even is anymore. Music has always been part of my life, and over time, it changed as I changed. Once, it was pure fire, anger, adrenaline. Metallica blasting in my ears while I stood with my school garage band, convinced we were untouchable. That sound made me feel infinite. Then life hit, responsibilities, family, work, the heavy weight of being the guy people count on. The fire dimmed. My playlists shifted to Pink Floyd. Their sound wasn’t anger, it was thought. It matched the questions in my head. Heavy, slow, searching. Staring at the sky, wondering if there was any meaning at all, it fit. But lately, without even meaning to, I’ve gone back to Metallica. And I keep asking myself, why? At this age, when I should be craving peace, why am I reaching for chaos again?

Because music isn’t just sound. It’s a mirror.

When I crank up Metallica now, I don’t just hear riffs, I hear ghosts. I hear the 14-year-old me still screaming, refusing to be buried under years of fatigue and responsibility. I hear the garage band that thought the world was theirs. I hear freedom in every distorted note. Pink Floyd feels like lying on your back staring at the stars, trying to figure out what it all means. Metallica feels like grabbing the wheel before you crash and screaming into the storm. One makes me think. The other makes me move. And I realize I need both. But here’s the thing, Metallica doesn’t sound the same at 44 as it did at 14. Back then, it was rebellion for rebellion’s sake. Now it’s therapy. Every riff pulls out the things I don’t say, the burnout, the depression, the frustration, the exhaustion of being the guy who always has to have the answers. It’s not noise anymore. It’s medicine.

This isn’t only nostalgia. This is survival.

Because deep down, my soul refuses to just grow quiet and fade into routine. Metallica wakes up the fighter in me, the one who still wants to kick down walls, scream at the sky, and live. And maybe that’s the meaning I’ve been searching for. Not to choose calm over chaos. Not to bury one version of me for the other. Maybe that’s what 44 really is. Not settling into one self, but to carry them both, the kid with the guitar, and the man with the scars.

Wishful Thinking with a Deadline

In over 20 years of building software, I’ve seen a wide range of project styles. Some projects are well-planned, some are chaotic, and then there’s the most common style of all, wishful thinking with a deadline. It usually goes like this:

• Start with vague requirements. The initial brief is so high-level that it could describe ten different products. Details? “We’ll figure them out later.”
• Discover the product while building it. As development progresses, new “must-have” ideas keep popping up. Scope changes aren’t an occasional thing; they’re a way of life.
• Hold developers to an impossible standard. They’re told to fully understand the business domain, fair enough, except the people giving the requirements often don’t understand the full picture themselves.
• Lecture about quality. In the final stretch, after the requirements have shape-shifted a dozen times, we suddenly talk about “quality” like it’s been our north star all along. As if you can throw darts at a moving target and still hit the bullseye.
• Blame the builders. When the product feels rushed or messy, the finger points at the development team. The process that created the chaos? Rarely questioned.

It’s a strange paradox; we demand precision from the people developing, yet we tolerate uncertainty from the people defining the requirements. We expect quality, stability, and polish from a process that is anything but stable.

I’ve always believed great software comes from clarity, stability, and disciplined execution. Without those, it’s not really software development; it’s just wishful thinking with a deadline. A product born from improvisation, released on schedule because the calendar says so, not because it’s ready.

So here’s a thought: stop pretending quality can magically appear at the end. Quality starts where the conversation starts. If the vision is clear, the requirements are solid, and changes are intentional rather than chaotic, the development team can actually deliver something great.

To all, my intention isn’t about assigning fault. It’s about getting everyone in software development to face the same truth. Otherwise, we’ll keep adding chaos to a scrum board, calling it “agile”, and pretending velocity equals progress.

The Airbag Generation

Back in the 80s, a car was basically a metal box with an engine. If you hit something, you knew you hit it. There was no gentle poof of an airbag to catch you, no computer telling you to brake, no beep-beep warning because you were drifting out of your lane. You paid attention because you had no choice. Mistakes hurt, literally.

Now, a modern car can survive a crash better than most people can survive criticism. There’s an airbag for your knees, your head, your side, maybe even one for your self-esteem. The whole thing is designed to make you feel invincible. And we’ve done the exact same thing to life.

We’ve padded the world from every angle. Schools redesign tests so nobody “fails,” because apparently the word failure is offensive. Sports days have no winners and losers, just “participants,” because losing might dent little Timmy’s self-esteem. Workplaces replace honest feedback with “positive framing” so no one feels bad about doing a bad job. We’ve airbagged reality.

But here’s the cruel joke: the real world hasn’t changed. It’s still competitive. It’s still unfair. It still chews up people who think life owes them a soft landing. In the 80s, you knew you were in a dangerous machine, and you acted accordingly. Now, people think they can slam headfirst into the wall and walk away without a scratch, because so far, they’ve never been allowed to crash for real.

And while we’re at it, can we stop telling everyone they’re destined for greatness? They’re not. Not everyone will be a leader, a billionaire, or someone history will remember. Some will live small, quiet lives, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But selling the fantasy of inevitable greatness only makes the crash harder when reality kicks in. You don’t need to be extraordinary to live a good, meaningful life. You just need to be ready for the bumps in the road.

Look around. The moment someone faces real rejection, they collapse. The first setback? Total meltdown. No resilience, no grit, just outrage that the world didn’t deploy the airbag on time. We’ve traded strength for comfort, and comfort for fragility.

I’m not saying we should go back to when seatbelts were optional and life was a demolition derby. But maybe, just maybe, we could stop wrapping everyone in bubble wrap and start teaching them to actually drive. Because in life, just like in the 80s, you don’t get infinite airbags. Sometimes you crash. Sometimes it hurts. And that’s the point.

And honestly, did you ever hear your father or grandfather complain about life being hard? They didn’t have the luxury. Life was the road, full of potholes and blind turns, and you drove it as best you could. No one promised a smooth ride. They kept going, not because it was comfortable, but because quitting wasn’t an option.

Work-Life Balance vs Growth

You want to grow? Then get ready to work. There’s no shortcut, no “hack,” no perfect work-life balance that magically leads to success. Growth, real growth, comes from pushing yourself beyond the usual, beyond what’s comfortable. These days, I hear a lot of noise about work-life balance. Don't get me wrong, rest matters, and burnout is real, but if you’re constantly treating “work-life balance” like a human right rather than a privilege you earn, then maybe it's not growth you're after, maybe it’s comfort, and comfort rarely leads to greatness.

We’ve romanticized the idea of balance so much that now, the moment work gets a little hard, people throw their hands up like, “This is toxic!” No, it’s not toxic. It’s effort, and effort is uncomfortable. Growth is not convenient. Think about athletes. The ones who win, do they train only when they feel like it? Do they work only 9 to 5? They wake up early, eat with discipline, train hard, and sleep like it’s their job. They structure their entire lives around improvement, and that’s just for a chance at a medal.

In our world, business, tech, entrepreneurship, whatever, it’s no different. If you want to grow, you have to push your limits. That means long nights, uncomfortable meetings, taking responsibility when things go south, and learning on the fly. Every single minute counts. Every distraction you entertain is a minute lost.

Let me give you an example. I’ve seen senior developers who clock in at 10:30, leave by 6, and spend more time checking notifications than checking their own code quality. On the flip side, I’ve seen juniors who stayed back to watch seniors debug, asked questions, picked up extra reading, and practiced on weekends. Fast forward a year, guess who’s leading a team and who’s still "waiting to be recognized"? Success doesn’t chase anyone. It shows up for those who show up first and leave last, who make themselves useful, who don’t see extra work as a burden but as an opportunity.

Work-life balance isn’t the enemy, but it's not the goal either. Balance is not about working less. It's about being in control. If you're in your 30s and trying to “balance” like someone in their 50s, you're robbing your future self. Get uncomfortable now, use this time to build, to hustle, to learn like crazy. Yes, take care of your health. Spend time with loved ones. But don’t confuse balance with laziness, or boundaries with avoidance. If you're not where you want to be, then more balance isn’t the answer; more effort is.

Use your 20s to build, your 30s to scale, your 40s to lead, your 50s to breathe, and your 60s to enjoy what you’ve built. But if you're already prioritizing breathing before building or scaling, you’re just exhaling your potential.

Balance is earned after you've built something worth balancing.

There are only two kinds of people in the world...

I was watching Vir Das: Fool Volume on Netflix the other night, hilarious, and in the middle of all the jokes, he drops this line:

“There are only two kinds of people in the world, assholes, and people who deal with assholes.”

I laughed, then paused, then rewound, then just sat there staring at the screen like... that’s uncomfortably accurate.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been the first kind. I used to be the asshole. Not because I wanted to hurt anyone or be toxic or whatever, but I thought being blunt, quick, and always “right” meant I was being smart. I thought I was being efficient, but looking back, I was just being difficult, impatient, sharp in all the wrong ways.

But life has a way of softening your edges. It throws people in your path who don’t react, don’t fight, don’t get rattled. People who don’t play the game. They just smile, say what needs to be said, and get on with it, while you’re still fuming in the corner. That’s when I realized the real power isn’t in being loud or fast. It’s in knowing how to deal with people who are, you know...

Over time, I changed. I started learning how to handle the first kind instead of being one. I became more patient, more grounded, less reactive, and honestly, life got a bit easier, less drama, better relationships, fewer mental spirals at night.

But, and this is important, every once in a while, someone shows up who’s not just your regular everyday asshole, they’re a moronic asshole, and when that happens, I feel the old me creeping in. The version of me that doesn’t want to breathe and count to ten. The one who wants to go straight to war. So yeah, I slip, I lose it, I go back to square one.

And maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe we don’t permanently become the second kind of person. Maybe we just try to spend more time there than we used to, because at the end of the day, growth isn’t linear. You don’t magically become a better person and stay there forever. You evolve, you relapse, you reflect, and you try again.

So yeah, maybe Vir Das is right, but maybe it’s not black and white. Maybe most of us are just trying to spend less time being the asshole and more time figuring out how to deal with them, even when one of them is us.

The Angry Man and His Dog

There’s something about the story of a lonely, angry man who has no one left but his dog. It always works. No matter how many times we’ve seen it, it still hits a nerve.

Why?

Because deep down, most of us have felt a version of that. Maybe not as extreme, but we’ve all had moments where everything feels pointless, where the world feels like it’s turned its back on us. And in that chaos, having one being, just one, that sticks around and loves you anyway, that’s powerful.

The man is broken, tired, maybe even dangerous. But he still feeds the dog, still protects it, still talks to it like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. And often, it is.

The dog represents the last bit of his humanity. No judgment, no expectations, just presence. And that’s enough to keep him from going completely off the edge.

Also, the anger isn’t just anger. It’s grief. It's disappointment. It’s all the stuff he never got to say or fix. And the dog doesn’t need him to explain any of that. It just stays. That loyalty breaks us. Every single time.

What makes it even better is how simple the whole thing is. It’s not about the plot. It’s about the feeling. One man. One dog. And a world they both stopped trusting. But somehow, together, they still move forward.

In the end, it’s about love. Not the loud kind. The quiet one that just stays, no matter what.

Why “Work Smart, Not Hard” Sends the Wrong Message

The phrase "Work smart, not hard" is often shared as advice to encourage efficiency. While the intent behind it is understandable, I believe it conveys a fundamentally flawed message.

The reality is that success demands a combination of smart and hard work. Focusing exclusively on "working smart" risks undermining the value of dedication, perseverance, and effort, the very traits that drive long-term achievements.

Consider the importance of relentless commitment to a goal, solving real challenges, and inspiring a team through action. These elements go beyond just "working smart" and require consistent hard work to bring ideas to fruition.

Hard work creates the foundation for learning, growth, and mastery. It teaches resilience and adaptability, qualities essential in a rapidly evolving tech landscape. Meanwhile, smart work, using the right tools, strategies, and prioritization, amplifies the impact of that effort.

In our pursuit of success, let’s not forget that hard work is not an outdated concept. It’s a cornerstone of innovation and excellence. When paired with intelligence and strategy, it becomes unstoppable.

So, the better mantra might be: “Work smart and hard.” That’s how we build lasting success, for ourselves, our teams, and our organizations.

Remaining Relevant!

The truth is brutal: if you can’t teach others what you’ve learned, you’re on a slow path to irrelevance.

You might keep doing what you’re doing now, but over time, the sharp edge of your mind will dull, and picking up new skills will take more effort than it once did. Think of it like a master craftsman holding onto their tools; if you never teach someone else how to use them, one day the tools will outlast you, and the craft will die with you.

You have a choice: hold on until you fade into irrelevance, or share what you know, stay humble, spark curiosity and passion in others, and hope that some will carry your lessons forward, remembering not just what you taught, but how you guided them.

Cycle of Life!

I try to feed and care for stray dogs and cats whenever I can. This morning, a new face appeared in front of my place, an old stray, eyes red, body frail, clearly sick. I’ve seen him before, a couple of blocks away, running with another group of dogs. But I guess age caught up with him, and his pack decided he was no longer part of them.

Funny thing is, my little pack accepted him without hesitation. No growls, no fights, just quiet acceptance. I hope it stays that way. I’m going to feed him, keep him safe, and make sure he gets whatever comfort I can give him.

It reminded me of something harsh but true: no matter how useful, important, or central you are today, the day will come when age or time pushes you aside. You stop fitting into the fast rhythm of the pack, and life moves on without you. It’s not cruelty, it’s the cycle of life.

Some get cast out. Others find a new place. If you’re lucky, you stumble into a pack that still makes space for you.

My Learnings

• The notion of yours is merely an illusion! - Me
• I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof. - Sherlock Holmes, A Scandal in Belgravia
• Love is the absence of judgment. - Dalai Lama XIV
• You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. - Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight
• Tomorrow millions of people will curse me, but fate has taken its course. - Bruno Ganz, Downfall
• If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid. - Epictetus, Dean Kansky, Serendipity
• You know the Greeks didn't write obituaries. They only asked one question after a man died: "Did he have passion?". - Dean Kansky, Serendipity
• We're going to hell, so bring your sunblock. - Ari Gold, Entourage
• Silence, it's golden. - Ari Gold, Entourage
• As the philosopher Jagger once said, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need". - Dr. Gregory House, House
• I always say, the way a man treats his car is how he treats himself. - Tarconi, Transporter
• Such is life! - Winston, John Wick
• In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on. - Robert Frost
• In the Book of Judges, Gideon asks God how to choose his men for battle. The Lord told Gideon to take his men down to the river and have them drink. The men who flopped on their bellies and drank like dogs were no good to him. Gideon watched as some men knelt and drank with their eyes watching the horizon, spears in hand. Though they were few, those were the men he needed. - James Reece, The Terminal List

Three Dreams!

1969 Chevrolet Corvette (C3)

1991 Honda NSX

1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing

A Dog Has Died

BY PABLO NERUDA
TRANSLATED BY ALFRED YANKAUER

My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with sex.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.

So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it.

Bicchinno Abeg

একদিন আমি হেটে চলেছি পথে একা
হঠাৎ হোঁচট খেয়ে থমকে দেখি
চারিদিকে আঁধার
আঁধার আর আঁধার
আঁধার আর অজ্ঞতা
কোন দিন আমি গাইব সেই গান
যে গানে থাকবে না মলিন অহংকার
কোন দিন আমি গাইব সেই গান
যে গানে থাকবে শুধু জোসনার সচ্ছতা

আলোয় আলোয় ভরা চারিদিকে
তবু কেন ঘরে এত আঁধার
শুনি তবু শুনিনা
বুঝি তবু বুঝিনা
গানের মত গান নিয়ে কেন তাই
কোন দিন আমি গাইব সেই গান
যে গানে থাকবে মহাশুন্যের উদারতা
কোন দিন আমি গাইব সেই গান
যে গানে থাকবে সাগরের গানচিলের ডাক

বন্দী আমি নিজে নিস্তব্ধতায়
কন্ঠে আমার নেই কোন সুর
বন্ধ জানালার পাশে বসে আছি
ফুলের সুবাস পাই
আলোর দরজা খুলেও কেন খুলিনা
বারবার শুধু ছিটকে পড়ি
অশ্লীল কারাগারে
কি যেন কি পাবার
মোহে... মোহে...
একদিন আমি হেটে চলেছি পথে একা...

Divider

Standing on the divider,
Undecided!
Which way to go,
Undecided!
Waiting for so long,
Undecided!
Till you see those lights,
Now!

Release

I see the world
Feel the chill
Which way to go
Windowsill
I see the words
On a rocking horse of time
I see the birds in the rain

Oh dear dad
Can you see me now
I am myself
Like you somehow
I'll ride the wave
Where it takes me
I'll hold the pain
Release me

Oh dear dad
Can you see me now
I am myself
Like you somehow
I'll wait up in the dark
For you to speak to me
I'll open up
Release me
Release me
Release me
Release me

Project Managers

I see Project Managers as the captains of a ship. The good ones know the route, guide the crew, and make sure the ship docks exactly when and where it should, with the cargo safe, the crew confident, and the mission a success. The bad ones? They’re usually busy telling everyone how great they are while the ship quietly drifts toward an iceberg.

A bad Project Manager is all talk. They spend more energy promoting themselves than promoting the work. They want to be liked, the “popular” one in the room, and that usually means keeping the team too comfortable. Sure, everyone seems happy at first, but over time the energy fades, the team gets lazy, and the work suffers. Projects slip into jeopardy, clients get nervous and annoyed, and before long, the losses pile up, projects, money, even good employees start to disappear.

A good Project Manager is the opposite. They believe in doing, not just talking. They put the project at the center, not their own ego. They might not be loved by everyone, they might even be disliked by a few, but they are respected, because they deliver. Their teams aren’t just happy, they’re productive. They run projects that last, keep clients genuinely happy, and in doing so, they not only earn money but also protect jobs, their own and those of others.

The best Project Managers are change agents. They take project goals personally, as if they were their own mission. They know how to inspire a shared sense of purpose so the whole team moves in sync. They’re passionate, organized, and thrive on the adrenaline of new challenges. Most importantly, they understand the bigger picture, how their work drives the company’s growth, and how each win helps the organization adapt and move forward.

And here’s the real test, when the storm hits. The bad PM blames the weather and hopes it clears. The good PM grabs the wheel, steadies the crew, and finds a way to steer everyone safely to shore.

So, the next time you see a project run smoothly against all odds, remember—there’s a good Project Manager behind it, quietly (or sometimes loudly) making it happen.

Oh, and… Happy New Year!

For Paul

So I just finished watching all his (Paul Walker) movies, and here is a list I think you should all watch to know the man and his talent -

• Hours
• Eight Below
• The Lazarus Project
• The Fast and the Furious
• Vehicle 19
• Fast Five
• Running Scared
• Takers
• Joy Ride
• The Skulls
• Into the Blue

A final tribute to Paul by Wiz Khalifa -

Happy New Year!!!

Holocene by Bon Iver

"Someway, baby, it's part of me, apart from me"
You're laying waste to Halloween
You fucked it, friend, it's on its head, it struck the street
You're in Milwaukee, off your feet

And at once I knew I was not magnificent
Strayed above the highway aisle
(Jagged vacance, thick with ice)
I could see for miles, miles, miles

3rd and Lake, it burnt away, the hallway
Was where we learned to celebrate
Automatic bought the years you'd talk for me
That night you played me 'Lip Parade'
Not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree
Saying nothing, that's enough for me

And at once I knew I was not magnificent
Hulled far from the highway aisle
(Jagged vacance, thick with ice)
I could see for miles, miles, miles

Christmas night, it clutched the light, the hallow bright
Above my brother, I and tangled spines
We smoked the screen to make it what it was to be
Now to know it in my memory

And at once I knew I was not magnificent
High above the highway aisle
(Jagged vacance, thick with ice)
I could see for miles, miles, miles.....