Like a bad habit

I’m back.

12 months ago



Maybe, maybe not


Mood swings


Hope not





What’s the point?

It’ll never work






1 year ago


Wanna get something done?

Fat fucking chance.

I must talk to you, or at you.

It’s all very important and cannot wait.

How my toe is aching.

What the annoying co-worker said yeasterday.

That story about what she said twenty years ago.

I must tell you that one at least once a week.

Fuck your work.

You’ll be lucky to type out a sentence by the time

I’m done talking at you.


1 year ago

Bad attitude

Fuck you.

Fuck your problems, they’re not my problems.

Your problems mean nothing to me today.

There is no one thing more important than

today is the day I lost my Father.

Dump on me some other day when I give a fuck.

Today is not the day.


1 year ago

Miss you Daddy

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning at the bar
When I put out to sea;

But such a tide as, moving, seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell
When I embark;

For though from out the bourne of Time and Place,
The floods may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.”

Fly on Donald.

March 14, 1926 - January 26, 2012

1 year ago

Good intentions

Filled with purpose and good intentions.

How shall I derail today?

Will I be sick with a cold or my fatty liver acting up?

Or will shiny things beckon on the Internet?

Will I look up after just “checking a few things”,

only to see that hours have passed?

Perhaps instead, a few things accomplished.

Itty-bitty steps indeed.

1 year ago 1 note

Picture me

Picture me dancing on the beach.

Picture me curled in a ball in the corner.

Picture me self-destructing yet again.

Slow steps, itty-bitty steps.

Sometimes I trip and fall.

Sometimes I say fuck it and take a nap.

Sometimes a little bit of progress is made.

Three steps forward, two steps back.

Old patterns, worn and grooved.

Changes difficult to make.

Problems hard to see.




1 year ago

Dear Judge Michael J. Algeo…

Reposted from

Dear Judge Michael J. Algeo,

You may not remember me,  but I will remember you for the rest of my life.  I am Prince’s mother.  The Prince who died on October 20, 2012.  The Prince who died on just his fourth court ordered unsupervised visit with his father.  

In case you still don’t remember me, I would like to take a moment to remind you.  I was the woman who came into your court room in March of 2012 (and again in July 2012) begging you to keep my son safe from his father.  You heard testimony from several women Luc had abused.  I told you about how I had fled Luc’s house in July 2011 with my newborn son and the clothing on our backs – that was after Luc had raped my then 19 year old sister.  You heard testimony about all the people who died around Luc (including the mother of his older son and his own mother)  All the horrifying information we presented, however, was still not enough for you to choose to keep my son safe.

I watched my son’s body slowly shut down for nearly two days as I waited for the doctors to officially declare him brain dead.  As I watched my innocent baby boy die, I thought about you.  I remembered how you told us you hated Family Court.  I remembered how you blamed me for falling in love with a con man.  I remembered how you talked about fairy dust and how you explained that my son would need to come home with cigarette burns before you would believe Luc was abusive.  I remember how you rolled your eyes, appeared to fall asleep on the bench, and openned up your computer as if to read your email – you did all of this as I pleaded with you to keep visitations supervised.  

I am now a mother without a child. My heart breaks every time I think about all the things my son will never do.  You never got to meet Prince, but your decisions made a significant impact in his life.  My son loved books.  He loved to smile, to laugh, and was just starting to run.  The week he died, he just started to say “ball”.  It was his first official word after “Mama”.  

Do you have children Judge Algeo?  Grandchildren?  You told us that you made your Custody decision based on what you would do if he was your child.  Would you have given your children to Luc in an unsupervised setting knowing what you knew about him?  Would you have taken a closer look at that psychological evaluation or maybe appointed a psychologist to conduct the test if it had been your child?  Would you have forced YOUR daughter to send her child to this man as punishment for having been lied to?  

One of the hardest things for me to deal with is that I will never again have the chance to protect my son.  Nothing I can do will bring him back to life.  I can’t stop thinking about how my life would be different if I hadn’t trusted you – if I had fled the country – if I had simply refused to comply with the court order.  

I will never get the opportunity to have a talk with my son.  I will never see him have his first day of school.  I will never see him graduate from High School and from College.  I will never dance with him on his wedding day or hear him say, “I love you Mama.”  

You said you hated Family Court – it showed.  I hope you understand the incredible power you have and with that power – the unparalleled responsibility.  If my son losing his life had little or no impact on your future decisions, I pray that you resign.  If you still find yourself rolling your eyes in frustration and looking upon parents who sit before you with distain, I pray for those parents who have no choice but to sit before you.

If the laws are not designed to protect children, then they need to be changed.  In my son’s case, it appears as though death was the only threshold for denial of visitation.  I knew how bad this could get.  I told you how bad this could get.  You didn’t believe me.  Hundreds of scorned women must come through your court room.  Maybe this has jaded or clouded your ability to see the truth.  I was not scorned.  I was afraid.  I was a mother trying to protect her only child.  How terribly sad it is that you have become so jaded that when a mother comes to you pleading for your help, you dismiss her concerns as merely those of a scorned woman.  Prince deserved better.  He deserved to live just as your own child would have.

I have spent my entire career working to protect our country – to protect America.  I wake up each day and fight for America – and fight for the freedoms you enjoy.  I hope and pray that despite the system’s failure, I can continue to take my job as seriously as you should have taken yours.  It was your job to protect my son’s basic human civil right to life.  All the evidence was before you.  All that was asked of you was to be cautious.  You held the life of an innocent child in your hands – the life of my child.  

You will forget me Judge Algeo.  Of that, I am fairly certain.  I will, however, never forget you.  


Hera McLeod (Prince’s Mama)
1 year ago
2 years ago


My Sister Paid Progressive Insurance to Defend Her Killer In Court

I’ve been sending out some impertinent tweets about Progressive Insurance lately, but I haven’t explained how they pissed me off. So I will do that here as succinctly as possible. There’s a general understanding that says, “insurance companies— oh they’re awful,” but since Progressive turned their shit hose on my late sister and my parents, I’ve learned some things that really surprised me.

I’ll try to cleave to the facts. On June 19, 2010, my sister was driving in Baltimore when her car was struck by another car and she was killed. The other driver had run a red light and hit my sister as she crossed the intersection on the green light.

Read More

2 years ago 12,231 notes