Thursday. Post-election. Full Moon. Lantern festival last night. We have all the ingredients we need to make some grade-A Irish Bog Witch’s Brew.

I followed my regular writing routine yesterday. Coffee stand in the morning. A bit of yoga to calm the mind and get focused. Giant salad for lunch. Keeping Up with Kardashians on TV in the background. Yasss. I spent the whole day yesterday observing from afar as I allowed the story to begin formulating in my head. Whatever post pops out next, rest assured that it was inspired directly by all of the crazy shit I’ve seen here in Bangkok just in the last week and a half.

I ordered dinner in and continued staring at the blank page, allowing the images to flow through my mind. I received an invitation to the bar, but I could not have any additional interference in my process. I went to bed at 8:30pm, woke up at 6:30am, got all dressed up to write, and now I am here. I decided to go super Irish today and wear an emerald green shirt with my snakeprint pants, lol. You know, to honor my ancestors who were clearly driven out of Ireland.

Here I am now. No distractions. Only the words. Time to write some House of Guinness fanfiction, only it has nothing to do with Guinness, and it’s 200 years later, and it’s set in Bangkok. I guess it’s like Yellowstone and 1883 in that way. This is the story of a bunch of Irish people who fled their homeland and ended up in a dingy dive bar somewhere in Bangkok. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. Well, I guess I am making this shit up, but it is somewhat based in reality.

Time to bang it out.

Ah, it’s just like being back at Bloody Mary’s in those early days, when I went to the cafe every morning to write, then to the bar to write in the afternoon, and then followed Mad Dog around to wherever he wanted to go. That was still the most productive I’ve ever been in my writing life. All of those people were so ungrateful. Some of those stories are hilarious. If only I had the mental fortitude to turn that collection into a proper book. Maybe I’ll feel better once I write this absolutely absurd story that has been floating around in my head all day.

I actually feel weirdly nervous about writing it. If I write it, it can’t be undone. It’s out there. It’s like a feeling of nervousness mixed with excitement with a hint of anxiety. I haven’t felt it in so long. Behold, the spark of creation! It’s been so long since it’s flowed through me. I honestly thought South Dakota had killed it forever, but no, it is here again with me, back home in my heart, at last!

The coffee stand is getting a makeover right now. The owner is transforming it from a dingy little corner stand to a charming little Parisian sidewalk cafe. It’s like watching a live episode of Extreme Makeover: Thailand Edition. I am *so* here to watch this dream manifest. I love to see where my money is going every day. 🙂

I know, some people might say, “How dare she destroy the authenticity of this grungy little coffee stand!” To that I say, “Maybe this local Thai woman has a different dream of something more charming and beautiful than the dump she’s been working with for some time. Maybe she looks at pictures of cute little Parisian cafes on Instagram every day and dreams of bringing that same style to her neighborhood. Maybe she’s a small business owner in a position where she has to compete with both the big corporate chains down the street and all the other little authentic Thai drink stands and wants to offer her customers a different experience. So what if her dream of beauty is Parisian? Don’t we all aspire to be Parisian in our souls?”

Like I said, I’m so here for it. Go on and get your Parisian makeover, girl!

It’s weird how nervous I am to write this story. It’s because the two characters who are featured in it are people who make me very nervous in real life, so I am writing this story to make them laugh and placate them so they do not do anything bad to me. Not that they would, it’s just… I don’t want any trouble, so I’m just trying to show them that I’m just here to have a good time and write silly stories about the people I meet on my travels. Hopefully they will find it as amusing as I do. If not… well… I guess I will be writing about the results of that later, won’t I?

I haven’t typed anything yet. It’s weird. It’s a power thing. Putting characters on the page in this way is a powerful thing. It takes something from me. It also tends to cause me a lot of problems. I guess I could choose not to post it, but what’s the point of keeping my writing a secret and letting it sit in an attic to rot? I’d rather just put it out into the open where everyone can see. It’s much more entertaining that way! It keeps life interesting, to say the least.

Okay, we got the first paragraph down. That was the hardest part. Now we need to make up some names. I have no experience with making up Irish names. I guess just look at my own family, lmfao. Uh, what if I just go full fanfiction and call him Mr. Guinness? Hahahahaha! It’s happening. It’s silly. We all need a laugh right now, here today, so this is what is happening. See? AI could *NEVER*!

Don’t look at me that way. He asked me for this! This hot Irish beefcake was all up in my face after meeting me for 5 whole minutes, demanding to know why I was making up stories about the lads at the end of the bar, interrogating me about my writing like it was some kind of direct threat to him personally, only for him to pay my tab with his black card at the end of the night, tell me to meet him around the corner, act like everything was totally normal to his friends, then walk out and follow me home. Now he gets to see what the big deal is all about.

You want to know why I was banned from a bar in a small town in the middle of nowhere? For writing stories exactly like this. Let’s take the ridiculous factor up a notch and just throw in some House of Guinness fanfic into the mix, and watch what happens live!

Okay, one gets to be Mr. Guinness and the other one gets to be named Billy, after one of my uncles on my father’s side. The Butler is named Jeeves, because I’m American and uncreative AF. I am the only one laughing right now. All the regulars here are looking at me like, “Why is she sitting on her laptop laughing to herself while writing?”

Because now I’m just making shit up for fun. But the story I’m telling about myself is true. That’s why we call it Creative Nonfiction.

Okay, I’m full on into this story now. You’ll just have to wait and see how it turned out when I publish it later.