#88
" surreal suicide savior complex " At baby Stanley's memorial, I did not give a speech or share any words. I could not stop crying. My brain could not understand how I was suppose to believe his body was now ashes inside an urn on a table in front of me. Nothing about that made any sense. I am not sure I even believed it happened still at that point. Writing some words down later and making a shrine of connections to this episode of The Muppet Show helped me (as backwards as it may seem) attempt to face reason, which Stanley was a stan of. & Stanley has come back to me in strange ways, two of which are mentioned in the poem. Stanley became the first Ghost moment I truly felt. Once while Adventure Time was on the screen, and I was listening to Future Islands out of a boom box I received as a Christmas gift from a Dominican student of mine, as the road through 117th street was under construction, I felt his presence return. & also, right after I found out
