from my tribe.net net

Sunday, May 16, The Parkway Theater in Oakland is hosting a film and a discussion at 3pm.

The featured guest is Wendy Campbell, the well-known film-maker and paranoid conspiracy-theorist, anti-jewish, and anti-two-state-solution hate-mongerer.

Please write "will@speakeasytheaters.com" at the Parkway to share your concern about what they're doing. If any of you know about Wendy Campbell, you'll know her affiliation with utterly blatant anti-Jewish organizations and websites. Check out her site and follow the links at the bottom... http://www.exposingisraeliapartheid.com/

b'shalom,
matt

Resentment thine name is (®PSue) Matt

So, Friday at school as often happens before my Hebrew class a few of us meet in the student union near all of the food places to review the day's homework, study and practice reading.

When I sat down on Friday, there were two people there, Amit and Jeff. Amit asked how I was doing. I said, "Fine." She asked, "No complaints?" I said, "No."

Her reply, "How unusual."

I'm still reeling, actually, from that bitchy little comment.

So, is that what you think when you read what I write about my life?

I guess I don't see my discussing the difficulties of my life as complaining. I'm trying to get support. No one can really change the reality of my life from day to day. Blake isn't going to suddenly be cured of autism, this is going to be a day to day struggle to help him gain life skills.

See me as a whinger? That's OK with me. Don't much have any investment in how you see me. Just don't tell me, and for goodness sake don't keep reading my journal.

I started to post this morning about what a rough night I'd had, and then didn't because I knew it isn't new information that Blake isn't sleeping through the night. The fact that I got about 5 hours sleep means I should be OK, shut up, suck it up and get on with it. Well, since I haven't had a shot in about 6 weeks what I really want to do is eat all the sugar and fat in the whole world, and curl up in bed and never get out.

Decided that it is, indeed, OK to be real about my life at least on some level here. After all, I'm not making any of you read it. Just a couple of clicks and you can remove the annoyance from your friends list. I promise not to be crushed.

But there will be no pouting and lying in for me. Someone else has a different idea about how our day should go. Unfortunately, I can't find my wallet. Can't really leave the house until i do find it, so I'm finding myself trying to redirect one little four foot rageful tornado of misery while trying to get my wallet to come back from somewhere in the depths of my messy apartment.

How gay am I?

Florence Foster Jenkins.


Discuss.