So, it's happened. After fifteen months of daily thought and worry, and sporadic practice, today I finally dragged my old guitar town to the 16th Street Mall and busked. Finally.
I played 11 songs, after making myself a promise that I only had to play 10. It took 47 minutes. And it went just about the way I thought it would. I was nervous, shaky. I played a lot of my older material-- mostly slow ballads. I pushed my voice to be louder, but I don't imagine I looked very confident. I didn't put in much of a show. I made four dollars and eighty-five cents: all of that except for one quarter arrived in the first five minutes.
I found a decent place to play, with a lot of foot traffic. I was tucked into an alley where I had shade, was out of the sidewalk traffic, and might have even picked up some amplification from the buildings.
Most people ignored me, or looked slightly annoyed. Clearly I need more up-tempo hits in the set.
But after months and months of delays, it finally happened. And that's just about all that matters today.