A few years ago I had a bad breakup. After a fucker of a fight the night before, the relationship was over. I woke up the next morning gutted, and instead of doing anything productive about it, I ran a bath, rolled a joint, poured a glass of red, put Tom Waits on, and got in for a brood.
I didn't get out for the rest of the day.
I did the old top up the hot water every time it cooled. I also topped up the wine, smoked and cried a bit. Played Downtown Train on a loop, and just lay there.
I've always loved water - I used to swim competitively and the ocean is my favourite place on earth. Lying in a bath for ten hours might sound morbid but for me it was something like prayer. Submerged, the music doing the heavy lifting, and the day passing without needing anything from me.
I think we've all had a day like this. The kind where you can't fix the thing that just broke, you can only wait it out in warm water with the right soundtrack. No big revelation, no guardian angel, no fateful encounter. Just a long horizontal afternoon of letting the loss wash over me.
DOWNTOWN TRAIN is that day. Red walls like the inside of my feelings, a big black bath, a bottle of red on the floor. Solace by water.
Sometimes the fault line isn't the breakup. It's the day after, when you finally let yourself feel it.
- downtown train.
(oil on canvas (100cm x 76cm) - physical included.)
