Whom the Gods would destroy, they first make mad.

I went to see my therapist this morning. On the way there, I found myself behind a car which was...well, you know how sometimes you see another car and you can't figure out what the fuck the driver thinks s/he's doing? This was like that.

The driver kept signaling that they were going to change lanes when there was no room in the lane next to them to merge. Then seemed confused about in which direction s/he wanted the car to move, signalling one way, then the other.

None of this was overly distressing to me, as I had time to spare. I was just idly wondering what in the name of fuck was wrong with this guy or gal. As one does. Then I happened to glance down at the license plate frame of the car.

At the top: Tennessee.
At the bottom: Knox.

I laughed for at least the next 10 blocks.

Then when I got into my therapy session, I was talking about something that happens whenever I start a new piece of fiction writing. Usually it's the result of a couple or more ideas that have been flitting around my head for a while, until something, usually quite random, happens to coalesce them.

I was describing what that process feels like by imitating the sound of a lamp flickering and sputtering into life for a few seconds, and then coming on with a "ping!"

Without a word of a lie, as I said the word "Ping!"...a lamp in my therapist's office flicked on spontaneously.

I am a god.