Sometimes my brother is very clever and does nice things like this:
He did this using a wicked ‘leaving the shutter open for 40 seconds’ trick, two sparkles, and a helper. A helper I shall not name because he’s actually a (somewhat) famous person that makes nice doof doof songs and he’s family and I don’t want people to think I’m being ‘indian’ by endorsing him. That doesn’t make any financial sense.
On wednesday, out of the blue, the brother mentions that he came up with a totally brilliant and original idea that could change the world or something momentous like that. He made it seem so blase, like it was one of those things that happen to him daily. I stared at him in awe, nodding my head at the moments when it seemed appropriate. To be honest, I don’t think I understood most of what he said, programming jargon only made sense to me when I was 17 and thought that I’d take on a life as a hacker like Mr Anderson from The Matrix before he died and became Neo. See, he’s sometimes clever this brother of mine. Clever in ways which I am not.
In short: I’m jealous. I don’t have it in me to come up with visually/artistically/conceptually brilliant ideas. I’m only good with adding numbers and looking like a vaguely attractive person and talking about nonsense and phrasing sentences with the flair of a bull fighter finesse of an orchestrator… GAH!
Well not jealous per say… maybe a ‘pinch of salt’ jealous, unless he gets famous and stuff, then it could be ‘a pinch of salt in an old wound’ jealous. Unless he buys me a car of my choosing then I’ll love him forever 😀
Not that I won’t love him forever, just saying.
P.S: Damian, you owe me one trillion dollars for advertising your shit on my blog. Thanks.
Either way, I’m still getting a car of my choosing 😀