#break it

I keep coming back lately to how f*cked up it was that my dad never let me mess anything up. Oh no, don’t climb out the window and sit on the roof--you’ll damage the shingles. So I put out beach towels and was extra careful, and he still got mad. Some of my best childhood memories were sitting out on that roof with my brother or my friends. Man f*ck the shingles. We sold that house a year later anyway. I waited years for him to fix the toilet paper roll holder in an upstairs bathroom--then one day just broke down and fixed it myself. It took me 5 minutes. And he was mad because I didn’t use the right kind of screws. F*ck the right screws. It looked perfect and it worked just fine, at least until I moved out. Now I’ve been out here living with a bunch of rogue ranchers and old engineers and it’s given me a whole new perspective on life. The first day I moved onto this ranch the owner got out an electric saw and cut a hole straight through a sewer pipe. I nearly panicked! Like--YOU CAN JUST DO THAT?!?! Just break something?! It was a horrible job! But BAM--it was done! And that sh*t changed my whole worldview. Last week I helped remodel a bridge with some spare logs and a pickaxe. I’ve sawed open the roof of my house and glued it back together. I’ve torn wall fixtures off and burned them in a bonfire.