La musique: the outsider- apc

Today I spent the day doing what I find to be the most theraputic of all things. Chopping wood. Seriously, from noon to like 5, chop chop chop chop chop.
For real, I think the world would be such a better place if everybody chopped wood for like a half hour a week. It's so destructive and constructive at the same time. You're fucking shit up, but for a purpose.

Screw anti-psychotics- chop wood.
Therapy, scherapy- chop wood.
"Shock treatments today doctor?" - "Not today nurse, we're going to get Mr. Johnson to chop a cord of wood."

You get this weird rush of power. You have tool of total devestation, and a completely defenseless, imobile object to destroy. Now I know how Dubyah must feel.
How much wood you chop is completely irrelevant. Your goal is to vent all the anger, frustration, and hopelesness you feel on this poor, pathetic, piece of birch. Amount chopped helps these feelings, you get a certain sense of satisfaction when you look at the pile, but it's a sidebar. The real key is to not stop hitting that stupid log until it's fucked.

wear women's panties?- chop some wood.
cry whenever you hear the Barney song?- Yep. Wood.
fantisize about little kids?- Shoot yourself man, that's fucked.

And when your lungs burn, heart is pumping, your hands blistered, and your arms feel like spaghetti. You stop, get a drink of water, then stack the wood you've chopped. Destruction-Creation, it's all a cycle.
After all the good wood chopping's done for you, isn't it time you hugged your axe? Man, I sure wrote a lot about wood chopping, I guess I am manic.