Slipping Into Something a Little More Corporal

Yes, Virginia, there is an Alchemists Lair.
Keep in mind, of course, that there are Alchemists and there are Alchemists. The same could be said for Lairs. I am glad to see both Barbara and Anita Marie Moscoso here at the Abby. I hope you will soon get used to me. I am sometimes forgetful, particularly when there has been too much daylight and then things . . . happen. Well. There ARE footsteps and rattlings. I don’t want to worry you, but some of us do sometimes forget to put on . . . Well. You know, if you’ll excuse me I’ll just slip into something a little more corporal. If it gets to be a problem the Abbess will do something about me. She always does.

Speaking of which, or rather whom . . . Abbess dear (my, I DO like all those repetitious letters, so alliterative!) Do you have more than one Blue Robe? I DO hope that since you are the Abbess it does not mean that I have to be Costello. I have a sneaking suspicion that that is exactly what it DOES mean, however, and I am not sure how I feel about the name. I shall take it into the Meditorium and Meditate upon it.

I did want to put to rest some rumors that might have been circulating through the grape-vine. This is a fascinating concept, don’t you think? The grape-vine would probably be the best place for rumors; you can almost see them sparking along. I’m very fond of grape-vines, I like to draw them. I believe that I will draw a grape-vine with a rumor running along it. What do you suspect a rumor looks like? I suspect it would depend on whether it was a vicious rumor or a benign rumor or a stale one or whatever. We won’t have vicious rumors at this Abby, though I may paint them. It seems to be OK to paint things that you don’t really want lurking. I mean, have you seen the Sistine Chapel? Oi Vey!

Where was I? Rumors. Grape-vines. Rumors could run down hop-vines, but they are kind of hairy and it might tickle the rumor too much. We do have both kinds of vines here at the Abby since we like to brew and we like to stomp. More about that later. Rumors. It might have perhaps been whispered that not all of the inhabitants of this Abby are completely serious at all times. You might have heard the word: irreverent.

I want to be completely sure that you know this: the word irreverent is very fun to write long hand because of all of the r’s and that whooping v . . . it just really Flooooows. ‘A word to tip your hat to,’ as our friend Emily would say if she were here. Indeed! And as it happens . . . Well.

No. There is not really any crepe paper in my cell. Nor colored lights, nor balloons and I don’t have any posters of Johnny Depp on my wall (even on the back of the door.) My cell looks just like yours, very small, and minimally furnished, old fashioned pitcher and wash basin, writing desk and straight back chair. I did get a larger window, but I have claustrophobia and SAD and I am ODD as well. The stories about all those folderols, trumpery, sundries, whatsiss and frills was merely an Abbilical Legend. I will ask you, if you visit me in my cell, not to go knocking on things or, you know, moving or displacing things such as the Kokopelli rug.

Again, it is good to have you here. ALL of you. Sometimes there are birds of fire where you least expect them, I have found it best not to expect them and them you never know when you might be rewarded.

Alas! I believe I am: Costello