But the wild things cried, "Oh please don't go-- we'll eat you up-- we love you so!"
And Matt said, "No!"
The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Matt stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye.

if the world had 1% more Matthew W's in it, the collective literacy, compassion, poetry, and intelligence of the planet would go up at least 28%. Bush would be impeached and jailed, and townhalls would regularly be the scene of Proust-Punk rock marathons, and small kids would be in rock n roll daycare, for free, having all been born with midwives in nice rooms, with family, friends, and no fluorescent lighting. Art would more likely be about something esoteric and adventurous and uplifting, rather than preoccupied with youth, fashion, and cleverness. And the interstellar alien minions threatening to destroy us for our mutant violent ways would turn around immediately and head straight back to Antares, or whereever...

Matthew is like a good Subhumans song: a wonderful blast of boyishness supported by an undeniable intellectual wit that inspires you to act in a way that promotes the best for your life and the world. Matthew and I met amid a throbbing rhythm under the weight of an unforgiving holiday. I have never felt the same about any friendship since. He is one of the most wonderful people I've ever stumbled across, and I'm incredibly grateful to be able to call him my friend.