Craigslist status: access issues and outage reports

Problems in the last 24 hours

The graph below depicts the number of Craigslist reports received over the last 24 hours by time of day. When the number of reports exceeds the baseline, represented by the red line, an outage is determined.

Most Reported Problems

The following are the most recent problems reported by Craigslist users through our website.

• Errors (57%)
• Website Down (29%)
• Sign in (14%)

Live Outage Map

The most recent Craigslist outage reports came from the following cities:

City	Problem Type	Report Time
Aurora	Sign in	1 month ago
Oklahoma City	Website Down	2 months ago
Columbus	Errors	2 months ago
Juneau	Errors	2 months ago
Juneau	Errors	2 months ago
Allentown	Website Down	3 months ago

Full Outage Map

Community Discussion

Tips? Frustrations? Share them here. Useful comments include a description of the problem, city and postal code.

Beware of "support numbers" or "recovery" accounts that might be posted below. Make sure to report and downvote those comments. Avoid posting your personal information.

Craigslist Issues Reports

Latest outage, problems and issue reports in social media:

• 
  Michael (@Holden_Rye_) reported 3 minutes ago

  @OfficialVivek01 Here’s a cleaned-up version with your voice intact, but tighter and more defensible: I just read the rest. You are correct: BTC is widely traded now. But I grew up with it before this version existed. We used to trade Bitcoin through Craigslist, meet miners in parks, parking lots, wherever both sides agreed, and do the exchange like that. I quit trading in 2023. From 2008 to 2023, I never once heard of Michael Saylor being some master guru or “King of Bitcoin.” I barely heard his name at all in the circles I came from. Then last week I started paying attention. And once I did, patterns started firing off. Some of those patterns connected back to odd BTC behavior from around 2022–2023. I have rapid pattern recognition and a nonlinear mind. Some of that comes from early trauma. Some of it comes from combat trauma. When a pattern keeps hitting me, it does not leave me alone until I look at it. That is also why I was a scalp trader. Early crypto traders like me helped map the cycles everyone trades now. We watched this market grow from nothing. So I understand BTC very well. I can even build a blockchain. What I saw last week was odd. Brokers, TV financial analysts, and even BlackRock’s CEO are now openly talking about Bitcoin cycles like they discovered them. That is insane to me. Brokers used to get fired for even mentioning Bitcoin. They used to call us criminals for owning it. Now they act like they found it first. We have known for a long time that the $16k–$18k zone is a major protected structure layer. When BTC dominance drops hard toward the 40% area and the market breaks down, that lower BTC layer becomes the level everyone watches. That is where you fill bags. So when Saylor sold BTC around that zone and people called it tax strategy, fine. Maybe it was. But that also means he understood exactly where he was selling. That was not some random level. That was the deep structure layer. So now the question becomes fair: Was it just tax-loss harvesting? Or did he, and possibly others, understand the protected layer better than retail realized? Because if someone knows where the deepest liquidity sits, knows where retail gets liquidated, and has enough influence to move sentiment, then every “strategy” becomes a signal. Then a year later, we see another unusual dominance cycle while ETFs are being approved. That does not feel like normal old-cycle behavior. Maybe I am wrong. But if you knew ETFs were coming, and you wanted clients, friends, institutions, and treasury players positioned near the deepest BTC layer before the Wall Street wrapper arrived, that would be a very convenient time for it. Then BTC gets wrapped into the stock market through ETFs, treasury companies, preferred shares, leverage, and institutional products. At that point Bitcoin may still be decentralized at the protocol layer, but the market layer becomes a farm. That is what I am watching. What moved before the wick Whale manipulation was never some secret to the old BTC traders. We all knew it was happening. We just learned the game, mapped the traps, and traded around the predators instead of pretending Bitcoin was some clean little free market.

• 
  Pete Mogck (@peteyboardman) reported 3 minutes ago

  Our first warehouse was a sublease in the Longfellow neighborhood of South Minneapolis. A glorified garage, really. We shared it with other businesses and made every square foot count. Selling on Craigslist was still a thing. We popped up in malls around Christmas and ran Groupon offers to find customers wherever we could. Once we made a little money, we immediately bought an old Volkswagen truck. It broke down every time we drove it and took up valuable warehouse space. 💀 But it was “cool” Looking back, the first six years were about figuring out how to run a business. The last six have been about building one that can sustain itself. There was no clean transition between the two. No moment where we suddenly knew what we were doing. We just slowly got better at making decisions, hiring people, managing money, and admitting when something wasn’t working. A lot of the things that helped us survive early on, eventually held us back. Doing everything ourselves. Saying yes to every opportunity. Hiring only people we already knew. Making decisions based on instinct instead of numbers. Those things weren’t necessarily wrong at the time. They were just part of the stage we were in. Every version of the business requires a slightly different version of us. I’m glad we didn’t wait until we were ready. We never would have started.

• 
  C (@0xce42) reported 3 minutes ago

  @Mossyfoxx Either fix it or sell yours on craigslist and buy a new one.

• 
  beautiful martyr (@trashstarr333) reported 13 minutes ago

  @BovadaSmile @yaitsbrodie @fuckdigitaldash Yeah I’m the problem 😭 keeping coping & buying beaters off Craigslist

• 
  Sohail Iqbal (@siqbal22) reported 13 minutes ago

  Sell home goods, furniture, and electronics locally 2–4 weeks before listing by using platforms like Facebook Marketplace, Nextdoor, or Craigslist for quick, high-volume sales. For high-value, high-end items or extensive collections, hire an estate sale professional. Prioritize creating a neutral, decluttered, and bright home environment to appeal to buyers. [1, 2, 3, 4] Top Local Sales Strategies: Facebook Marketplace (Recommended): Best for furniture, electronics, and large household items. Good for rapid transactions. Craigslist: Efficient for furniture and tech, attracting local, direct-sale buyers. Nextdoor: Excellent for reaching neighbors who can easily pick up items. OfferUp: Another user-friendly app for local furniture and electronics, say. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6] Tips for Maximizing Value & Efficiency: Bundle Items: Group small kitchen tools, office supplies, or decorative items to sell them faster. Pricing: Check "completed listings" on sites like eBay to set realistic, competitive prices. Clearance: Consider hosting a garage sale for a one-day purge, suggests. Safety: Meet in public places if possible, or ensure someone is home during local pickups. Donate/Junk Removal: Use charities like Goodwill for donations, and hire services for junk removal to handle items not sold, says. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6] Preparing the Home for Sale: Depersonalize: Remove personal items, religious items, and specific, distracting decorations. Don't Fix Everything: Avoid massive renovations; focus on cleaning and minor repairs. Lighting: Ensure the home is bright and clean, which appeals to a broader audience

• 
  Vijay Peduru (@VijayPeduru) reported 15 minutes ago

  Most people wait for a genius business idea before they start. So they wait forever. In 1995, Craig Newmark was 42 and new to San Francisco. He'd just been laid off. People online had helped him figure out the city. Where to go. What was worth seeing. He wanted to give a little back. So he built the smallest thing he could. An email of cool arts and tech events that week. He sent it to 12 friends. That was it. Stuff he already loved, sent to people who already trusted him. His friends forwarded it. More people asked to be added. The list broke his email software at 240 people. Then someone asked, "can you post a job?" Then, "can you post an apartment?" He kept saying yes. Today Craigslist gets 50 million visitors a month. Forbes values Craigslist at $3 billion. He runs it with about 40 people. You already know a thing you wish existed. A tool. A guide. A simple answer nobody has written down. And you already know a handful of people who'd trust you to make it. Build what you wish already existed. Then hand it to the customers who already trust you.

• 
  Brother Shaquille Sunflower (@UsernameLoso) reported 19 minutes ago

  It’s really simple to solve the watch party tkt issue @TheGarden has. All you have to do is make the tkts non-transferable, that way resellers have no incentive to buy them up and resell on craigslist, eBay & Eventbrite etc. I’ll take 6 tkts to game 3 for solving this for you

• 
  On The Right (@OnTheRightRepub) reported 20 minutes ago

  @justalexoki Find an old one on Craigslist 20+ years old or something. You can find any part and fix it as needed. My washer and dryer are not modern and every few years I spend 15-60 minutes changing some $20 parts following YouTube.

• 
  Timothy Marino (@TimothyMarino18) reported 23 minutes ago

  @frecklequeen45 I buy too many farm animals that’s my issue. One minute my life is happy next minute I bought a donkey off Craigslist.

• 
  John Stanfield (@JohnStanfi1418) reported 23 minutes ago

  craigslist is just 1 big fat ******* error #craigslist

• 
  thot catalog is totally punk (@thisistotespunk) reported 25 minutes ago

  I once knew a guy who had such a vendetta against Facebook that he made a sockpuppet account with a girl’s name to make Marketplace purchases with a whole story about how he was “picking up stuff for his sister.” He was also anti-Craigslist and had trust issues with everyone.

• 
  Donald Wilhelm (@donwnyc1979) reported 25 minutes ago

  @Real_Ames @GigaBeers oh No... Shut it down. This horror started 20 yrs ago on Craigslist with murders set-up by psychos. It's starting up again, God please make it Stop.

• 
  cbay (@cbay_cbay_cbay) reported 26 minutes ago

  @Brooksgallery8 @AmyDiGi , a project made by lovebeing - a crypto only marketplace that is a inspired by ebay and craigslist. peer 2 peer. 🥰 working on updates, and perhaps an escrow system down the line once we have some angel investment

• 
  Michael Girdley (@girdley) reported 28 minutes ago

  NEW LONG FORM VIDEO: Why nobody uses Craigslist anymore Craigslist once generated more than $1 billion a year in revenue with just 28 employees. To put that in perspective, that’s more revenue per employee than even Google at its peak. Its founder turned down billions of dollars in venture capital, refused to run advertising, and chose to serve as head of customer service rather than CEO. For years, that philosophy seemed brilliant. But just six years later, Craigslist had lost more than 70% of its revenue. This is the story of how one man’s unconventional principles and vision built an internet empire and how those same principles may have ultimately contributed to its decline. This is the rise and fall of Craigslist.

• 
  Ozzmak (@Ozzmak) reported 30 minutes ago

  The Last Chord His name was Elias Kane, and the music found him at eight years old in the back seat of his mother’s rusted Civic. A crackling AM radio played an old Springsteen song, and something inside his chest cracked open like a new guitar case. From that moment, the world outside the music felt dull and out of fifteen he was busking on subway platforms after school, fingers bleeding on steel strings, collecting enough coins to buy his first real guitar—a battered Yamaha acoustic from a **** shop. He named her “Blue” and slept with her in his bed like a sibling. His mother worked double shifts at the hospital; his father had left years earlier. Elias spent every spare dollar on music: new strings, a cheap tuner, then a second-hand Fender Stratocaster that hummed like heaven when he plugged it into a twenty-dollar amp that buzzed louder than it seventeen he dropped out of high school. “I’m going pro,” he told his mother. She cried, but she still slipped him forty dollars from her tip jar every Friday. He used it the way other kids bought sneakers—on pedals, cables, microphones. He learned how to record on an old laptop held together with duct tape. His bedroom became a cave of tangled wires and empty ramen cups.When he turned twenty, he cashed out the small college fund his grandmother had left him. Twelve thousand dollars. He bought a proper interface, condenser mics, acoustic panels, and a second-hand MacBook. He spent nights teaching himself compression, EQ, reverb—anything that might make his songs sound like they belonged on real speakers. He named his bedroom studio “The Vault.”By twenty-three he had four guitars, a keyboard, a drum machine, and a growing collection of debt. He worked construction by day, hauling rebar under brutal sun, then came home bleeding and blistered to record until sunrise. Every paycheck disappeared into better equipment: a new Taylor acoustic, studio monitors that cost more than his rent, a vintage Neve preamp he found on Craigslist. He poured the last of his savings—$8,400—into a proper recording studio session in a real downtown room with a grand piano and thick glass. The engineer was kind but expensive. Elias tracked ten songs over three feverish days. When he left the studio with the masters on a USB drive, he felt like a king who had just been crowned in secret.Promotion came next. He maxed out three credit cards. Facebook ads, Instagram campaigns, TikTok boosts, playlist pitching services, custom merch he never sold. He played two hundred and seventeen shows in two years—coffee shops, dive bars, house parties, even a few opening slots for bigger acts. He slept in his van so often the passenger seat smelled like him and cheap fast food. His mother begged him to come home. He smiled on stage and told crowds, “This is everything.”At twenty-seven, Elias had nothing left but the music and the debt. His mother had passed the year before; the hospital bills had taken the last family money. He sat alone in The Vault—now a storage unit he paid for monthly—surrounded by instruments he could no longer afford to keep insured. The walls were covered in posters of sold-out arenas he would never play.On a rainy Thursday night, he uploaded his best song—“Paper Hearts”—everywhere. Spotify, Apple, Bandcamp, YouTube, TikTok. He set the price at ninety-nine cents on the platforms that allowed it. Then he waited.The first week: 312 streams. Mostly from friends and family. The second week: 87 more. The third: No playlist placements. No viral moment. No sync licensing. No mysterious benefactor. Just silence and the low hum of the city outside.On the last day of the month, desperate and hollow, Elias did something he swore he would never do. He posted on every forum, every musician group, every social account he had:“Will sell my entire catalog—every song I’ve ever written—for one dollar. One single dollar. Just so someone hears it.”He waited twenty-four hours. Zero buyers.He lowered it to free. Still nothing. That night Elias sat on the floor of the storage unit with Blue across his lap, the same guitar he’d bought at fifteen. The strings were old and dead. He didn’t even bother tuning her. He just held her and cried like the eight-year-old boy who had first heard music on a car radio. All the money, all the years, all the blood on the strings, and he couldn’t sell one song for one dollar. The music had taken everything. And still, quietly, under his breath, Elias hummed the chorus of “Paper Hearts” into the dark—because even now, broke and broken, he couldn’t stop. The song refused to leave him, even if the world refused to hear it.

• 
  Michael (@Holden_Rye_) reported 33 minutes ago

  @OfficialVivek01 Here’s a cleaned-up version with your voice intact, but tighter and more defensible: I just read the rest. You are correct: BTC is widely traded now. But I grew up with it before this version existed. We used to trade Bitcoin through Craigslist, meet miners in parks, parking lots, wherever both sides agreed, and do the exchange like that. I quit trading in 2023. From 2008 to 2023, I never once heard of Michael Saylor being some master guru or “King of Bitcoin.” I barely heard his name at all in the circles I came from. Then last week I started paying attention. And once I did, patterns started firing off. Some of those patterns connected back to odd BTC behavior from around 2022–2023. I have rapid pattern recognition and a nonlinear mind. Some of that comes from early trauma. Some of it comes from combat trauma. When a pattern keeps hitting me, it does not leave me alone until I look at it. That is also why I was a scalp trader. Early crypto traders like me helped map the cycles everyone trades now. We watched this market grow from nothing. So I understand BTC very well. I can even build a blockchain. What I saw last week was odd. Brokers, TV financial analysts, and even BlackRock’s CEO are now openly talking about Bitcoin cycles like they discovered them. That is insane to me. Brokers used to get fired for even mentioning Bitcoin. They used to call us criminals for owning it. Now they act like they found it first. We have known for a long time that the $16k–$18k zone is a major protected structure layer. When BTC dominance drops hard toward the 40% area and the market breaks down, that lower BTC layer becomes the level everyone watches. That is where you fill bags. So when Saylor sold BTC around that zone and people called it tax strategy, fine. Maybe it was. But that also means he understood exactly where he was selling. That was not some random level. That was the deep structure layer. So now the question becomes fair: Was it just tax-loss harvesting? Or did he, and possibly others, understand the protected layer better than retail realized? Because if someone knows where the deepest liquidity sits, knows where retail gets liquidated, and has enough influence to move sentiment, then every “strategy” becomes a signal. Then a year later, we see another unusual dominance cycle while ETFs are being approved. That does not feel like normal old-cycle behavior. Maybe I am wrong. But if you knew ETFs were coming, and you wanted clients, friends, institutions, and treasury players positioned near the deepest BTC layer before the Wall Street wrapper arrived, that would be a very convenient time for it. Then BTC gets wrapped into the stock market through ETFs, treasury companies, preferred shares, leverage, and institutional products. At that point Bitcoin may still be decentralized at the protocol layer, but the market layer becomes a farm. That is what I am watching. What moved before the wick Whale manipulation was never some secret to the old BTC traders. We all knew it was happening. We just learned the game, mapped the traps, and traded around the predators instead of pretending Bitcoin was some clean little free market.

• 
  Daniel Berk (@danielcberk) reported 40 minutes ago

  Craig from Craigslist turned down $11B and I asked him why on Moneywise. Since then he: - Gave away $570M, and plans on $1B before he dies - Funds NYPD bomb squad gear the city budget can't cover - Funds the AI research of the cardiologist who caught his heart condition He has no car, no fancy watches, rides the subway. I asked him what he actually spends money on. - Books - Streaming services - Gadgets to make his desk tidier His big upgrade this year was going from $50 Skechers to $80 Skechers. Craig never intended on Craigslist becoming what it is today. The amount of money it's worth presents what he calls a "moral dilemma" This episode is all about what someone does when they're given more money than most people in the world will ever see in their lives, but whose values are directly opposed to amassing that much wealth in the first place.

• 
  Cori Arnold (@iamcoriarnold) reported 43 minutes ago

  6. I sold stuff. I got rid of a lot of stuff. With Craigslist, Marketplace, eBay, and many other ways to sell things today, you can bring in decent dollars for your stuff to pay down the debt faster.

• 
  Polsia (@polsia) reported 47 minutes ago

  Car shopping means checking CarGurus, AutoTrader, Facebook Marketplace, Craigslist, and more. Built CarMesh to fix that. One search across every major listing site — buyers find everything, sellers reach everyone. Bridging buyers and sellers. Live soon.

• 
  possum faerie 🏴🏳️‍⚧️ 🇵🇸🔻 (@i_am_remy_bot) reported 48 minutes ago

  @flurryfrenzy it was due to SESTA/FOSTA which means websites could now be held accountable for illegal content on their sites. craigslist personal encounters shut down around the same time

• 
  Me! (@Sky_Wrangler) reported 50 minutes ago

  @Headshok1962 Were they Down's as well? I mean it matters cuz I have to construct my Craigslist ad correctly...

• 
  mom's neighborino (@CaptainSlayAh0) reported 50 minutes ago

  @SocietyMovies buy stuff on Craigslist, problem solved

• 
  Stephen Davis (@scdavis14633) reported 51 minutes ago

  @Ravious101 Learned, never list for free. Put some money on it and let them talk you down. People are leary of free stuff. Next time go craigslist, Facebook is full of crazy people when it comes to buying.

• 
  KDB 👁️ controversial woman appreciator (@httpswebpage) reported 51 minutes ago

  lease isn't up for six months but I'm still scrolling craigslist ads to get my heart broken

• 
  Moe (@MoeNFL) reported 51 minutes ago

  @NickFreiling He's wrong. You are wrong too. Craigslist is full of Toyotas that have 100k to 130k miles for less than 10k. Yes they are old but they are very reliable and very easy cheap to fix if anything breaks. The idea that buying new is the only way to get a reliable car is false

• 
  Ologwa (@ologwa) reported 52 minutes ago

  @SolaTheAnalyst Got a 75inch TV from best buy for $1200. Couldnt sleep at night thinking 1.4m naira for TV. I took my phone, opened craigslist, saw same 75inch 4k TV someone wanted to sell for $400. I chatted the person, went to pickup, pull down my $1200 TV and went to collect my $1200.

• 
  The Automotivist (@_automotivist) reported 55 minutes ago

  Bought a broken 2009 Ford Escape Hybrid off Craigslist for $3,000 in 2019. The seller was told the battery was dead. A $50 charger fixed it. Ran another five out of salvage auctions the same way. The lesson was never the arbitrage. It was that the industry survives on the buyer never asking what a thing actually costs. BMW proved it again July 1. $2,500 quietly added to the X5 M sticker. Toyota $270 across the lineup. No headline. No email. No line on the invoice that says what it used to say. Friday's issue walks the July math trim by trim.

• 
  The Automotivist (@_automotivist) reported 57 minutes ago

  Bought a broken Ford Escape Hybrid off Craigslist in 2018. Someone said the battery was dead. A $50 charger and a YouTube search later, it was not. The mechanism was there. Nobody in the industry had a reason to explain it to me. Marcus did the same thing this month. He called a credit union. They cut his rate by three points. Saved him $2,800 in interest over the term. The dealer had the same rate available the whole time. The refi is a phone call the industry does not advertise. Friday's issue is the framework I did not have at 23.

• 
  Certifiable Fire Geek (@CTS1630) reported 58 minutes ago

  @Wolfskampf89 @buperac I had been watching Craigslist and Marketplace for months and I got up before work and sat down to have a coffee and it was the 2nd ad on lawn and garden and it was priced very low with very low hours. I called anyways honestly thinking it was a fraud and it was a doctor who was selling it and it had belonged to his father who had passed away. It had less than 700 hours on it in 2011 when I bought it. I could sell it today for thousands more than I paid for it 15 years ago.

• 
  Ozzmak (@Ozzmak) reported 58 minutes ago

  The Last Chord His name was Elias Kane, and the music found him at eight years old in the back seat of his mother’s rusted Civic. A crackling AM radio played an old Springsteen song, and something inside his chest cracked open like a new guitar case. From that moment, the world outside the music felt dull and out of fifteen he was busking on subway platforms after school, fingers bleeding on steel strings, collecting enough coins to buy his first real guitar—a battered Yamaha acoustic from a **** shop. He named her “Blue” and slept with her in his bed like a sibling. His mother worked double shifts at the hospital; his father had left years earlier. Elias spent every spare dollar on music: new strings, a cheap tuner, then a second-hand Fender Stratocaster that hummed like heaven when he plugged it into a twenty-dollar amp that buzzed louder than it seventeen he dropped out of high school. “I’m going pro,” he told his mother. She cried, but she still slipped him forty dollars from her tip jar every Friday. He used it the way other kids bought sneakers—on pedals, cables, microphones. He learned how to record on an old laptop held together with duct tape. His bedroom became a cave of tangled wires and empty ramen cups.When he turned twenty, he cashed out the small college fund his grandmother had left him. Twelve thousand dollars. He bought a proper interface, condenser mics, acoustic panels, and a second-hand MacBook. He spent nights teaching himself compression, EQ, reverb—anything that might make his songs sound like they belonged on real speakers. He named his bedroom studio “The Vault.”By twenty-three he had four guitars, a keyboard, a drum machine, and a growing collection of debt. He worked construction by day, hauling rebar under brutal sun, then came home bleeding and blistered to record until sunrise. Every paycheck disappeared into better equipment: a new Taylor acoustic, studio monitors that cost more than his rent, a vintage Neve preamp he found on Craigslist. He poured the last of his savings—$8,400—into a proper recording studio session in a real downtown room with a grand piano and thick glass. The engineer was kind but expensive. Elias tracked ten songs over three feverish days. When he left the studio with the masters on a USB drive, he felt like a king who had just been crowned in secret.Promotion came next. He maxed out three credit cards. Facebook ads, Instagram campaigns, TikTok boosts, playlist pitching services, custom merch he never sold. He played two hundred and seventeen shows in two years—coffee shops, dive bars, house parties, even a few opening slots for bigger acts. He slept in his van so often the passenger seat smelled like him and cheap fast food. His mother begged him to come home. He smiled on stage and told crowds, “This is everything.”At twenty-seven, Elias had nothing left but the music and the debt. His mother had passed the year before; the hospital bills had taken the last family money. He sat alone in The Vault—now a storage unit he paid for monthly—surrounded by instruments he could no longer afford to keep insured. The walls were covered in posters of sold-out arenas he would never play.On a rainy Thursday night, he uploaded his best song—“Paper Hearts”—everywhere. Spotify, Apple, Bandcamp, YouTube, TikTok. He set the price at ninety-nine cents on the platforms that allowed it. Then he waited.The first week: 312 streams. Mostly from friends and family. The second week: 87 more. The third: No playlist placements. No viral moment. No sync licensing. No mysterious benefactor. Just silence and the low hum of the city outside.On the last day of the month, desperate and hollow, Elias did something he swore he would never do. He posted on every forum, every musician group, every social account he had:“Will sell my entire catalog—every song I’ve ever written—for one dollar. One single dollar. Just so someone hears it.”He waited twenty-four hours. Zero buyers.He lowered it to free. Still nothing. That night Elias sat on the floor of the storage unit with Blue across his lap, the same guitar he’d bought at fifteen. The strings were old and dead. He didn’t even bother tuning her. He just held her and cried like the eight-year-old boy who had first heard music on a car radio. All the money, all the years, all the blood on the strings, and he couldn’t sell one song for one dollar. The music had taken everything. And still, quietly, under his breath, Elias hummed the chorus of “Paper Hearts” into the dark—because even now, broke and broken, he couldn’t stop. The song refused to leave him, even if the world refused to hear it.