Dick Sennett Wrote My Book

I have a twin who is about 30 years older than I am. He has been teaching at NYU all this time, thinking my thoughts, and using his salary and academic bona fides to do my work, while I, single dad and business owner and generally overtaxed fuck-up, sit here in my home office and manage no more than an occassional blog post and a bunch of mediocre house designs and heartfelt but hamfisted parental moments. Am reading his latest, The Craftsman, and this is MY book. I wrote it. I am the only one who COULD have written it. It matches my outline, it cites my sources, and it's argued in my words. Hell, it even starts with MY Hannah Arendt critique and MY graceful ravishing of Martin Heideggar. WTF? He must have stolen the outline that I didn't get around to writing! I had this whole thing like totally NAILED in my head, and here it is, Yale University Press, New Haven and London. Done deal. Solid as a handshake. Now what? If my one unique contribution to the Western Intellectual Tradition has someone else's name on it, am I doomed to obscurity? Do you think I can negotiate a retroactive co-authorship? Dang!