I've had two beers. I'm totally drunk. And the woman sitting next to me on the second-story balcony of my neighbor's Midtown townhouse, a woman I'd just met, she tells me she's written a book. I say oh what's the name of your book. She says what sounds like Tenzin Wangyal, the author of a book on dream yoga I read last year, but what she actually says is One Zentangle something or other. She can't remember. She turns to her friend and says, what's the name of my book? I'm thinking, she doesn't even know the name of her own book? What a horrible book this must be!
She says you know Zentangles? I say I've heard of Zentangles. She says my book on Zentangles is at the top of the art charts. Art charts? What on earth? She seems head-in-the-cloudy. I don't know what to make of her. She says mixed media is the term Amazon uses for the category her book is in, but she prefers the term multi media, or even omni media. I'm like wow she's pretty out there, but I'm digging her. I'm feeling her. I'm just not convinced she's making any sense. Then we walk over to her place and she shows me several translations of her book, hot off the press, and I was like whoa. I was like she's totally making sense.