I usually go to an assisted living facility for work a fee times a month. They're nice places. These are for the seniors with money. But the memory wards are so fucking trippy. It is interesting to see how different people handle dementia, or alzheimers, or generalized Rot of the Brain. For a lot of these people, it is a systematic genocide of their pleasant memories. Like every nice moment of their life has been erased, like only terror and confusion can exist in this single moment in time. >Why can't I feel teeth that used to be inside of my mouth, why are my pants down, and why is this crazy Jamaican lady whiping my ass? But others, they go on a pleasant mental vacation. >Oh fuck, I can't remember last night, but this looks like some sort of hotel. Aw, God. I must've gotten really plastered last night. I shit myself. But thus Jamaican women is whiping my ass. Is she a hooker? Am I in Jamaica? Fuck I went to Jamaica and hired a hooker. That's why the staff here is all black. Cheryl is gonna be pissed. Oh shit, the Phillies are on. My stepfather was like that when my mother moved him into a facility. He thought he was at a hotel. When we ate in the cafeteria, he always said he liked this restaurant, praised the food and the service, and we should come here more often. My grandfather thought he was in a hospital ship in the pacific theatre during WWII. Kept on telling the nurses he was fine, needed to be cleared immediately. Old age and insanity and Brain Rot reveal so much about a person.