My friend I moved to LA with introduced me to Joe Matt when I first moved here. They had met on Myspace and she said I should meet him. Coming from a small town and growing up conservative, I was introverted and had a hard time meeting people, making friends, or even talking. So when I met Joe, I was immediately swept away by his huge personality and inviting nature. He'd ask questions and be intensely interested in the people he met; it made me feel for once like even I might be an interesting person. It was so comforting to find someone I could so easily talk to, someone who was brutally honest, always willing to offer criticism, but never judgemental.
And oh how we talked. The initial shared interest in films (I was thrilled to find a fellow Buster Keaton fan) and literature was a constant binding force in our friendship over the years. Having mostly ignored comics after my childhood, Joe Matt rekindled my love for comics—both because I found his comics so refreshingly honest and insightful and because he introduced me to so many other great works, from his Toronto pals Seth and Chester Brown to Charles Burns to E.C. Segar's brilliant Popeye comics, a whole new world opened back up to me and I started to find myself interested in drawing again.
I could go on and on about how much he influenced me, not just in comics, but in life: getting rid of my car, discovering my love for coffee, always searching out the ridiculous in not just life around me, but in myself as well. He was one of the funniest people I've ever met, always able to find something to laugh about. Truly, Joe was a singular man, and his time he shared with me made my life so much better. I miss my friend. I regret not having had at least one more conversation with him, but then I'd have wanted at least one more…and so on.