He’s The Smart One.

“So tell me why this lecture is arcane,” I suggested to my brother as we were walking to lunch.
He said a lot of things about apperception and synthetic and analytical unity.
“Okay,” I said. “You just be sure to call me when you need an in-depth analysis of the evolution of the Sexy Faerie in Young Adult Literature.”

I went up to UBC today to hear my brother give a lecture on what is apparently the hardest part of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, which is something he knows a lot about.

I was lost, which I fully expected to be. I was also really interested, because Bo is a wicked lecturer. Sandii came with me, and she thought it was really interesting, but she is much more analytical than I am. Follow a logical train of thought? I will get lost in the woods every time.

On the way home I told her, “That’s why I tell people he’s the smart one.” Which I do. People seem worried when I do, like I’m telling people I am stupid. They rush to reassure me, which is lovely, but unnecessary.

General (and even specific) knowledge, I have in droves. Want to know where bongos live, the effect of beamier boats on the BC fishing industry, or how to cook a salmon 137 different ways? I know that stuff.

My brother, however, has way more smart-guy Philosophy stuff crammed into his brain than I do. Tons. I’m impressed with his brain, and that’s actually something that doesn’t happen a lot.

I’d like to sit in on a class that was less arcane. Maybe I would have a clue.

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