He's doing what you wish you were doing. It's not really jealousy so much as envy. And definitely more grudging than envy. Wait, no, it's more resentment than grudging. Yeah, resentment, and how quickly that resentment turns to unwarranted criticism of your assumed adversary.
He hears about all of your back-biting comments from mutual friends and acquaintances. Would-be elucidation, barely lucid, your name inspires raucous laughter amongst even the most civilised of sets. You're a one-man circus of the absurd, wannabe intelligentsia, pseudo-intellectual. It's thought that your stunted brain development can be blamed on academics: either not enough school, or too much. Either way, something went wrong.
Your collection of thoughts and opinions, (nearer the Barmecidal than even originally thought), was considered somewhat endearing in youth. Now, a full grown man, your thought process ossified, you carry that same mass of appropriated ideas on your back. All grotesque and twisted, it seems that ideas do not age as well as men. Time has not been kind, progressively turning you from curiosity to weirdo to freak. A distinction without a difference, three words to describe the same thing, you've neither evolved nor devolved. Static. And your stasis has become a major point of hilarity and entertainment for others.
He's doing what you wish you were doing: changing. Time is the clothing of space, and sometimes one person wears it better than another. You have to know where to shop, where to find the best deals. You need to have a tailor you can trust, and an upstanding dry cleaner. And, perhaps most importantly, you must know when to discard an outfit and buy anew - things age; deal with it. But, sometimes a person just never feels entirely comfortable in their clothes no matter what they do - the cut is all wrong, the fabric itches, it's last year's fashion. The outfit affects the way you walk and talk, the way you carry yourself in general. Others notice and they start to talk. I guess that's what happens when you wear another man's clothes.
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