Not content with the strange array of voices vying
for dominance in his head, Mr. Cornelius hid a suped-up Sony World-Band
receiver within that magnificent patch of filaments. He tuned
into stuff from all over the world. And, since he was nearly seven
feet tall, the reception was especially excellent.
Mr. Cornelius became serious when he listened to
the CIA. One of my happiest memories. He visited the estate often.
Read Pynchon all day. Mr. Cornelius said that I was his true brother,
and that someday, in another life, we would meet again. He gave
me T'ai Chi instruction every morning in the rose garden then
lectured on secret Tantric rites for immortality.
Last I heard, he was living in India with an under