A very good friend of mine very recently asked me:
How do you deal with pain and not curse?!
My response was, if not helpful, then very simple:
I curse a hell of a lot.
It's true. I swear way too much. I restrain myself at times, when it is appropriate, but I still cuss like a drunk sailor at a strip club when in the right company. I sometimes use words that don't even exist (don't ask me what a slunt is), or turns of phrase that went out of fashion before the internal combustion engine was invented (carpetbaggers and lollygaggers!). I once called a very good friend of mine a pusillanimous proto-simian bastard, though I think I picked that up from somewhere else.
It's a way to channel the general slow boil of frustration out of my brain, in a way that doesn't hurt anyone. Chronic pain isn't always something that only one person suffers - it spills over, something I try very hard to not allow to happen. I'd far rather deploy terms like badger-fondling fucktart than snap instantly at everything that niggles me. Forced to choose between being moody and assholish 24-7 and occasionally insinuating that one of the z-list non-celebrities in the news inhales more cock than a dragon on a chicken-only diet, well, the choice is obvious. That way people are less likely to have to ask who shit in my sombrero this morning, who pissed in my wheaties if you will.
There's lots of ways to deal with pain, and one comes to rely on them more on some days than others. I say it a lot: there are Good Days and Bad Days and some days where you're not sure and some days where you are definitely totally for realsies sure with jizz-guzzling cherries on top.
Today was a Bad Day, and I have cursed quite a lot.
But there's always good days - and on those days, sometimes, I just swear for the fun of it.
On occasion this can lead to offence being caused. To be honest:
You could sink a battleship with the fucks that I don't give.
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