dover at 2 am feels like a bad idea but here i am

i woke up to the sound of rain hitting my eyelids. not the cozy kind. the kind that makes your coffee go cold and your soul question life choices. i didn’t plan to busk in dover. i was a disaster of a musician who forgot their guitar case in a hotel room. now i’m out here with a cardboard box microphone and a guitar that’s probably older than the local apocalypse rumors.

i just checked and it’s raining right now, hope you like that kind of thing. if you get bored, oak hills are just a short drive away. don’t listen to me. i’m a disaster. my busking spot is flooded and the only people here are a raccoon and a guy in a trench coat who keeps saying i should ‘go viral’ before the next storm.

the weather data says 12.72 degrees. feels like 12.37. which is great because i’m wearing a parka made of duct tape and regret. my neighbor from across the street, mr. clark, told me last week that if you get bored, oak hills are just a short drive away. he also said something about a haunted dive bar called the spectral grill. i didn’t ask for details. i’m here to make music, not history.

"someone told me that the pub down the street serves the best corned beef hash," i heard last night. i heard it through a crack in my hoverboard. or was it a drunk? i can’t remember. either way, i’m too wet to care. the humidity is 89% and it’s clinging to myhair like a second skin. i’m starting to think this is what it feels like to be a sentient sock.

[imagessrc]a busker in the rain, flailing a guitar[/imagessrc] i tried to improvise a song about the weather. it went something like, i’m a mess, i’m a mess, the rain won’t stop… then i forgot the lyrics. classic me. i almost got arrested for performing in a municipal sewer drain. the cop just handed me a washer and said, that’s on you, kid. classic diy busker logic.

i saw this Instagram post from a local band: ++discovered this group while busking near the hollow bridge!!++ i want to be discovered. i want to be noticed. i want a Yelp review that says ++quaint, rainy vibes, perfect for awkward first dates++. a fantasy.

[iframe]the map is here. it shows dover’s heart as a glitchy pixel. 36.038,-95.7806. don’t judge me. i followed a squirrel.[/iframe]

another neighbor, lisa, said i should try the new craft coffee spot. she’s probably biased. she works there. but i gave it a shot. the barista made a latte with a whistle. it tasted like secrets. i asked if they had free samples. she laughed. you’re a busker, right? i nodded. she said, you should play our next gig. we’ll pay in guilt and bad wifi.

the city boards online say dover has zero nightlife. which is true. the only thing open is a library that plays lo-fi music. i sat there for hours. a guy in a beanie was sketching the rain on a napkin. we bonded. he gave me his sketch. it was of a busker standing in the rain. it looked like me. or maybe it looked like a raccoon. either way, i kept it.

i heard from a drunk that the spectral grill is haunted by a guy who plays accordion. i told him i’m already haunted by bad life choices. he nodded. we all are, he said. but the food’s good.*

[imagessrc]a raccoon stealing a busker’s hat[/imagessrc] i’m low on snacks. only have a candy bar and existential dread. i should’ve packed better. i’m a disaster. a human-shaped disaster. but hey, the temperature is 12.03 at night. maybe that’s a good thing. maybe it’s keeping the raccoons at bay. or attracting them. i can’t tell.

i’m done. i’m going home. my guitar is soaked and my spirit is wetter. if you’re reading this, thanks for existing. maybe catch me next time. i’ll be the guy in the parka. or the raccoon. probably the raccoon.

[imagessrc]bright city lights reflecting on wet streets[/imagessrc]
[imagessrc]an old wooden door on a white building[/imagessrc]
[imagessrc]a bird perches on a tree branch in the rain[/imagessrc]

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