Stories and thoughts about being a queer girl geek in the 21st Century.
Quixotic
I’ll never stop
chasing the ideal
of love
call me a fool
call me idealistic
call me a dreamer
call me quixotic
whatever, I’ll
still believe
Joanne Fisher
Word count: 26
This was written with the prompt quixotic provided by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #186.
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©️2020 Joanne Fisher
Julie sat on her bed with her guitar composing a new song. As she strummed and worked out what she wanted to say, she thought again of Hannah. She loved Hannah and was trying to write her a love song that would do justice to her beautiful soul. What did it matter that Hannah had told her that her attentions were unwelcome? She couldn’t just give up her feelings like that, so she resolved to write the song that would win Hannah over. This was the one, she was certain of it….
Joanne Fisher
Word count: 91 + prompt
This story was an afterthought. When I was looking for an image yesterday for the story I had written, I stumbled across this picture and immediately thought of a story that could accompany it. Which is why I’ve written a second story for this prompt.
This was written with the prompt unwelcome provided by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #163.
Did you know you can see my blog posts on my Joanne the Geek Facebook page?
©2020 Joanne Fisher
She said her name was Clarice. We had arranged to meet in a café. In the end, she was thirty minutes late when she finally turned up. I don’t know why I waited for so long. I had already decided that she wasn’t coming.
Her skin was pale and her hair was long and dark. She had green eyes that seemed to shine in the dull light. I was feeling annoyed when she arrived and sat down before me. Her incandescent smile alone was enough for me to forgive her. So I stayed, and slowly we fell in love.
Joanne Fisher
This was written with the prompt Clarice provided by the Carrot Ranch March 5 Flash Fiction Challenge.
©2020 Joanne Fisher
Last year I fell in love with someone I shouldn’t have. She already had a partner and early on she just saw me as a friend, until it all got weird. It created all sorts of issues. But I can’t choose who I have feelings for. My problem is when I fall for someone my feelings go very deep and are hard to get rid of. The only thing that works is time and letting the feelings die but that can take a long while, even years. And though there are some days I’m fine, there are also many days where she is on my mind and on these days I have to hold tight and weather the storm. The best thing I can do is keep myself occupied and in fact this whole blog is just one really big attempt to stop me thinking about her, or at least help me get over the bad days when I’m feeling a lot of emotional pain, as I am today. But at least I’ve been constructive with my time.
When I look back at the last year I’m really proud of the stuff I’ve written and the projects I’ve started and finished. A year ago I didn’t think I would be putting up my own fiction on this blog as I’m doing now. It really just started as articles of things that interested me and my poetry. I think it’s proof that some good can be created out of a bad experience or situation. If I wasn’t able to write or express myself I would have finished myself off a long time ago I suspect, as I almost did last year. If I hadn’t survived I would never have completed my sequences The Return or Volcano City, and what is rapidly becoming my first ever completed novel, The Sky-Pirates of Durn, would never have come to be written. Sometimes you never realise the value of holding on.
I do often wonder how she is doing. I have no idea if she is reading my posts or ignoring them, but I imagine it’s probably the latter, even though if it wasn’t for her they may have never been written. A lot of great work was probably also created by similar circumstances. I think there are many artists and writers that were left behind or unwanted and this helped fuel their creativity.
The title of this post comes from the song Thought Disorder by the New Zealand group Tall Dwarfs. Listen to it here.
Has unrequited or lost love caused you to create work you are now proud of?
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Falling In Love
it’s those smiles she beams at you
when she serves flat-whites & toasted bagels
that makes you notice her
her face shimmers as if
under the layer of skin
there is a clear light
making her translucent
eventually you muster the courage
to ask her out fearful
her face might suddenly
succumb to frost
“I was wondering if you…”
& when she says “Yes!”
your heart detonates
the world opens up into light
as if you so willed it
you could just float away
& walk amongst pristine white clouds
the tides rising in your heart
you grin like the village idiot
you go out to the pictures
you walk home with her
the dark hides you both as you hold hands
& cars race furiously past
then on the porch
your arms wrap around each other
as the night sky enfolds the hills
you hope this will be
a happy ever after
Joanne Fisher
This is a re-post of a poem I published here in November 2017.
I was planning to post another chapter of The Sky-Pirates of Durn, but something has happened. I was on YouTube and my computer suddenly went crazy. Since then I have done deep scans and it has shown nothing. It may be a hardware issue, I don’t know, but it’s going to make typing out another chapter incredibly difficult and frustrating. I’ll show you what’s happening:
If I don’t bother editing it c3om7es out looking like this.9 If I use num7bers z1-.9 this is waht happens: z1x2c3v456m7,8.9. And it seem7s to be getting worse.9 If you hav4e any ideas about what to do let m7e know.9 I m7ay hav4e to take it som7ewhere to be fix2ed and that will take tim7e and m7oney I don’t hav4e.9
Secondly: I’ve tried to avoid adding a donations button to my posts, but I’m finding things really difficult at the moment. All donations will be greatly recieved 🙂
True Story
the first time
you meet her
you’re captivated –
caught in the orbit
of a brilliant new sun
she is stuck in your thoughts
you hope you’re in hers
every time you meet
you seem full of electricity
you just want to be there
reflecting her radiance…
then one day she is gone
& you are lost
in the sub-light hours
waking from strange dreams
you imagine she is there
her arms wrapped around –
a layer to protect you from the world
but she is not there
she will never be there
her eyes now cold
as a starless void
you hope she will text, call,
or something
your happiness slowly falls
away
you will survive this… barely
you will cry, you will fall apart
& yet she is always there
you wake up alone
hoping you can let her go.
Joanne Fisher
This poem was something I had to write to help get it out of my system. I haven’t really been in the mood to continue writing the story I’m working on or various articles I have planned, hence all the poetry at the moment. They’re all there worked out in my head, but at the moment I’m just chilling doing other things. I recently gave up smoking as I could no longer afford it and it was cutting into my food budget which meant I was going hungry a lot of the time and I think this is affecting my ability to sit down and write for long periods. Once all the nicotine cravings are gone I’m sure I’ll be writing long screeds of text again… 🙂
As it is Valentine’s Day I thought I would share a love poem, not that I have that many love poems that I’ve written left to post here. This poem does have the word love in it, so it counts in my reckoning. The title of this poem is stolen from an Ursula K. Le Guin short story, and it is not the only poem I’ve done this with.
The Direction of the Road
(for Steph)
we are following the road
not exactly knowing
where it is leading us …
downwards
to black tunnels rolling into
the strata of the earths crust or
upwards
to weaving black hawks
tearing up the blue sky
the wind tousling your
marram grass hair
now you are drumming
your bone fingers
on a red formica table
nervous energy
you say
as thin clear light
dances through the café
we discuss a thing
called love & other
stuff
perhaps we are lost
in these deep sea-green
chambers
lost like poems
unable to rise
out of sleep
Joanne Fisher
I can feel summer coming
bursting the flowers open
warming the old bones
of the earth
above a fighter jet sears
a long white scar on the
unblemished sky
this morning we have
scrambled eggs together
a golden yellow on
wholemeal toast
after we had been
through the night
consuming each other
the new light floods
through the windows
reflecting in your burning
sapphire eyes & shimmering
blond hair
love…
roll that word around
succinctly in your mouth
for a while
on a morning like this
it tastes so sweet
Joanne Fisher
