Come Into My Cellar (My Love Letter to the English Language)

Come Into My Cellar (My Love Letter to the English Language) 

by Alan Loewen

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Words mean something to me. Though far from being the wordsmith I long to be, I love the magic of words and what one can do when one carefully puts them together. I gloat over words like a curmudgeonly wine connoisseur hiding in his deepest cellar lingering over his dusty bottles of rare vintages. 

Take this one for example. Uncork the bottle. It contains only one word: senescence. Let its aroma fill you. Taste it. Feel how it lingers on the lips, its repetitive sibilance pleasing to the ear. It needs such little effort for your tongue and mouth to reshape the monotone drone produced by your vocal cords. Yet its sweetness hides its true meaning. Like the snake it simulates, it conceals behind its aesthetics madness and horror. Senescence speaks of age-induced dementia when the human brain falls far from its glory into senility and oblivion. I shall put this bottle back onto the rack and treasure it for another day. Its pleasant aroma turns to the attar of the grave if played with for too long. 

So many delightful words here all bottled up, waiting for me to combine them like an alchemist of old. If done well, I can make the imbiber experience delight or desire or sorrow if, and only if, I can master the fine art of blending. 

Over here is my collection of combinations. Using the essential elements of words, I have created fusions of linguistics and grammar resulting in unique elixirs and tonics that I believe turned out rather well. 

Here is one of my favorite aromatics. Give it just a sip and let it linger on the palate of the inner ear. Tell me what you think: 

I cannot say I own Elysia House. Better to say she owns me. Laugh if you wish, but I hear the whispers. Elysia is alive—self-aware—responsive to those who breathe and move within her walls. And over the months, I have come to find a rest here as well as a calling, for Elysia has her secrets. I now plumb her endless mysteries while wandering her oak-paneled halls as a willing revenant. 

Ah, yes. Personally, I think that is a savory one. So many more here. Some are meant merely to give a moment's respite, a cheap, no-name vintage for a moment's slaking of one's thirst, but there are others here that may tarry with you for a while. 

All these beautiful words. All these lovely cordials. Mine, all mine. 

No, no! Don't touch that bottle. Yes, that one with the green label where the very glass feels slimy to the touch. Let that one be. Some are meant for my palate only, libations best kept bottled up forever. 

Here. Try this one instead. It is my favorite. Open it and let its fragrance overwhelm your senses. It is my most treasured possession. 

It starts out, 'Once upon a time ...'