The Death of Matthew Good
Guys, I'm really sad tonight.
I'm mourning the artist I thought I knew. When someone physically dies, we grieve—it's like a part of ourselves is missing.
But what happens when you're saying goodbye to an image? An idea of who someone is? It's not as deep as a actual grief, but man, do I feel it in my soul.
I really hoped that his first public statement would be different.
But honestly, it feels like a kick in the teeth. It seemed like a nicely tossed word salad with a fuck you dressing.
So here's my little funeral for Matthew Good. The one I thought valued women, the one I thought understood trauma and darkness enough not to inflict it on others, the one I thought created from a place of goodness.
Condolences to all the other mourners out there.