Every Doug Has Its Day

God I hate interaction.  Even with people I love.  I despise it.  Call me what you want.  Call me a prickly asshole.  Call me whatever.  I hate it.  It makes me want to vomit.  I don’t hate people.  I just don’t like the act of interaction.  Ew.

I went for a nice walk around Jameville house hunting.  There are so many tiny dead end streets with these adorable little row houses.  I want one.

Enough of that.

I’m in the process of getting my albums up on Bandcamp.  For those who can afford it, you can purchase them from there.  All proceeds will be donated to the Good Shepherd in Hamilton.  They tried to help me out quite a bit when I was younger.  It’s time to give back.

I have a song called I Don’t Think I Love You Anymore.  There is a lyric, the things I own, they own me too.  It rings true for me.  It’s not a judgement against people who are more fortunate and like to have nice things.  It’s just not me.  I just found when I had two credit cards, a car, a house, and a bunch of guitars, I had a fuck of a lot more to worry about.  Some people can’t handle the stress of all those things.  The benefits are generally immense.  I just can’t handle them things.

Thus, I am donating 100 per cent of my royalties to charity.  It’s not just because I am too afraid to have a lot of possession and their burdens.  It makes me feel very good to do the best I can to help.  It also gives me purpose and helps me atone for my dark past.

I was raised thinking you had to be sarcastic to be funny.  All my friends were generally tough because I wasn’t tough.  But it was also those very friends who taught me that people are expendable.  I got that from my brothers and family too.  Everyone was expendable.  Everyone was thrown under the bus.  There was no loyalty.  Just a lot of people pushing each other into fires and then laughing about it.  It was more than just bad behaviour too.  It was a fucking art form.  Scheming.  Framing.  Treachery.  The bigger the ruse the better then feeling of accomplishment.
Sick right?  I know.  I was a fucking horrible human being.  I had great teachers and influences. It literally wasn’t until I was in my thirties, that I saw the err of my ways.  I saw other people.  The way friends interacted and had each other’s backs.  The ways families cared about each other and were nurturing.

Today I know I didn’t have friends growing up.  I had like minded piece of shit human beings who tolerated me, and I tolerated them because GOOD people would have nothing to do with us.

I don’t hold any grudges though.  No one is all good or all bad.  I’m not suggesting that I am saintly today.  But I’m also not going to humble myself and say I’m far from it.

Because today I do have my friends’ fucking backs.  I am honest to a fault.  I try to be the best father, brother, son, and friend I can be.  Even when it’s not reciprocated.  I don’t have money.  I don’t have a future.  But I have my honour and I won’t break it for anyone or anything.  I can’t be intimidated.  I can’t be bought.  Fuck you for even think about trying.

For those who can’t afford my records, send me an email.  I will email you my entire catalog.  doughell666@gmail.com

I like my life small.  I don’t want a pile of guitars.  I adore the guitars I have and they’re special to me.  I feel like a part of them.  And when they inevitably go to my son they will mean something to him too.  He’s incredible.  He’s at the age now that I literally picked up my first instrument.  He writes intensely catchy songs that I am a fan of.  And not just because I am biased.

Well it’s time to get back to work.  Thanks for checking in.


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Posted by: Doug Hell on