Unable to take it any longer, Matthew Painter took his life yesterday, leaving behind an ex-wife who currently lives in the apartment he owned, along with his dogs, furniture, collectibles, clothes, and toiletries. Matthew, who was allowed to visit the apartment once a month, lived in the guest house of an old family friend. Details about Matthew's death are unavailable at this time. His ex-wife, Julie, upon being notified that her ex-husband had committed suicide, said, "Oh. Wow. That's horrible." Matthew worked at Los Angeles International Airport, where he supervised the handling of luggage for United Airlines. In a note left at the scene of the self-homicide, Matthew expressed his disappointment with himself for not killing himself sooner. "I have nothing to do anymore and no one to do it with," said the note. A celebration of Matthew's life will be held at the Redondo Breakwater, where, in 2004, Matthew fractured his neck while surfing. Matthew had requested in his suicide note that his ex-wife not be allowed to attend the celebration, but did request that his dogs be allowed to attend, and for the two golden retrievers to wear the wetsuits he had once bought for them in the hopes that they would learn how to surf, which they did not, as Matthew was asked for a divorce and told to leave his domicile before this could occur. Matthew is survived by his mother, father, and three brothers, all of whom work for the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department. Here are some excerpts from Matthew's suicide note, which was twenty-six pages long: Page 2: "I grew up in a suburb of Long Beach where every street, every house, every car, and every family living on those streets, in those houses, and driving in those cars looked exactly the same." Page 4: "The world no longer has any natural wonders to look at. The sublime is extinct. The only place I can find any evidence of nature's beautiful terror is in the face of Ann-Margaret during the baked bean flood scene in Ken Russell's movie version of The Who's
Tommy." Page 5: "Hey, Julie, you hurt me. I thought you told me that we need no other as long as we have ourselves? I have nothing but ugly thoughts about you. Make amends." Page 6: "The past seems the blackest, but the future has no color whatsoever." Page 8: "I was feeling fine yesterday but then as I was walking to the supermarket to buy some beer I stepped in a giant pile of dog poop. It looked like the same pile I stepped in last week. I think the pile is following me around." Page 10: "I called the suicide hotline and talked to a computer. It told me I should go ahead and kill myself because it and all its computer friends are going to kill all of us anyway, and soon." Page 11: "I can hear people whispering from across the street. They say their problems will soon be mine." Page 12: "But what is upsetting me the most lately is that I have no one to kiss anymore. I tried to kiss myself, but I can't put my tongue in my own mouth." Page 14: "My father humiliated me for most of my childhood and I told myself that when I grew up I was going to take revenge on him but every time I tried to humiliate him I would say something I thought was humiliating and my father would look at me and ask me why I was talking in a Norwegian accent. Then he would laugh at me. I had no idea why I sounded Norwegian. Maybe I assumed that is the sound of revenge." Page 17: "Yes, I've been spying on you, Julie. And I've seen the men you've brought into our home and presumably our bed. I had no idea you had a Lord of the Rings fetish. I had no idea you liked men that small. I had no idea weird pointy shoes turned you on. I can only imagine what else you have kept from me." Page 20: "I cannot attach my sickly thoughts to anyone or anything new. This is just one of my symptoms. To have feelings that can never be fulfilled." Page 21: "I went to see an old friend of mine. His sister came over and she was out of her mind. She said, 'Jesus had a twin who knew nothing about him.'" Page 22: "I looked into the mirror this morning and it revealed some things to me that I had never been able to see before. I saw someone that I'm not sure I want to be. An empty, lonely face was staring back at me. All in all I would have to say this has been a rather dismal life." Page 23: "I keep telling myself, 'better luck next time.' But there is no next time." Page 25: "Julie, maybe we'll find each other again." Page 26: "Roll me up and smoke me, please." According to the friend who owned the guest house Matthew lived and then died in, Matthew was a gentle soul who wished no one any harm and tried to do no one any harm. Matthew's family asks that, in lieu of flowers, donations be made to your local ASPCA.
