They say I am demented. I'm only forty-two but the doctors say my brain is riddled with plaques and tangles, and that it may be Alzheimer's. See, I suffered two strokes before my fortieth birthday. They diagnosed me with dementia because I kept forgetting who I was and who the person staring back at me in reflection could be. I kept using turn signals in a turn lane, something only a profoundly demented octogenarian would do. But hardcore is what I do remember. I remember the rush, the excitement of standing motionless with my arms crossed, staring at the stage as tattooed chimps howl about unity over percussive cacophonous noise. I just want to thank hardcore for giving me something to remember.