Grass is always greener

I have a friend, probably almost fifty years old, who is a composer. He makes money doing sound recordings and the music for short films he learns about on Craigslist. He lives in an apartment with two roommates. He doesn’t have a cell phone. He has a very small social circle. But he has a large and growing number of contemporary music compositions.

When I asked him about getting his work performed, he said he was lazy and also said that if he had to deal with the inevitable rejection, it would adversely affect his work. So, if it happens easily then great. If not, well, he’s just not going to bother, it seems. He’s confident that the work has worth because he has listened to so much music, both from the past and present.

To me, he’s the real deal. I almost idealize his inner world and his outsider-ness. Does this mean the rest of us are just a bunch of kiss-ass fakes?