Today was a recovery day, for sure. Life has been burning hot, and that’s not a comment on the weather. It’s not to say that it’s been chaotic either. It’s been well-structured and ordered in a fashion that is somewhat foreign to me. It’s been productive.

It’s been fucking busy.

So today – no workout other than about 7 miles of walking, 4 of those miles at a quick, deliberate gait. Very little work. Less writing. No household errands to speak of. There is time for all of that tomorrow. Today was spent mostly idle, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. It wasn’t low energy really. It was just a sort of Zippy the Pinhead Zen Hero day.

I think I’ve successfully hacked my gut bacteria with only a few daily supplements. Right now it’s a daily dose of apple cider vinegar, a probiotic/prebiotic supplement, lions mane mushroom, and a couple weeks ago I added turmeric. Not to overshare but the plumbing is active. I’ve had a lot more energy, which may only be the result of coming out of a low-key depression, but it feels like more than that. It shouldn’t take much more with a mostly healthy diet, but I’m feeling better. The tinea is disappearing completely for the first time in almost a year, and my energy level, again, is tip-top. When I’m tired, I’m simply tired and it can be attributed directly to busting my ass. Sleep alone remedies that and I’ve been mindful to take care of that. The turmeric seems to have been the missing ingredient in squashing other discomfort.

I came home yesterday to an odd scene. My neighbors were gathered out on the walk watching in fascination and horror as a huge redtail hawk tore into a pigeon. And when I saw ‘tore into’ I mean it looked like the winged-rat was run over by a lawnmower. Mr. Hawk was going in, as hawks are wont to do. It’s funny though that we all love nature or say we love nature but let’s face it, it’s not all Wordsworth-pastoral stuff. There’s not a lot prettier than a hawk hundreds of feet up gliding on an updraft, but it’s a different story when you’ve got a 25 lb. raptor ripping into its prey on the manicured grass where your toddlers toddle about in the evening. Hey again, it’s what they do. I used to watch it every day when I lived down by the Greenwood Cemetery. It was comforting to my hill-country soul at a time when I felt so alienated from my country-ass childhood. Not everybody has seen it that up-close and personal like I have so I ‘get’ the horror, but my neighbors expressions of sympathy for the pigeon surprised me. Nobody really likes pigeons, do they? They’re the air corps for the subway rats. They shit all over creation and few people haven’t been victimized by one at some point. Pigeons are filthy bastards and everyone knows it, but witnessing a small dinosaur casually scattering pieces of one on your lawn sure brought out some shit. It wasn’t pretty, admittedly, but it was pretty beautiful nonetheless. A hawk knows what its purpose is, and it’s good at what it does. Some of us might like to think of ourselves as having more in common with that hawk, but the fact is, and my neighbors’ displeasure revealed this, we know deep down we have more in common with the pigeon. Individually anyway. It’s no accident that pro-war people are called hawks but that’s another story.

Shit, how’d I get here? This was about music, right? About Franssens? It’s pretty as hell but somewhat poppy for my tastes, especially after weeks of Part and Gorecki. But hey, we can’t have one mood all the time, right? Still, it’s like listening to Fleetwood Mac after weeks of Joy Division. ‘Spheres’ gets downright California Sunshine poppy at about the 40 minute mark. We’ll take it. I’ll take it.

Anyway, that’s my update. I exhaled fully today for the first time in a few weeks. Tomorrow it’s back to the grindstone. I’ll take that too.

I’ll take that too.

Despite some lingering ailments and injuries from recent incidents, things are okay. I’ll take that too.