If I grunted more at the gym, would I be able to lift more weight? This is a rhetorical question (sort of). There are some people at the gym who are completely uninhibited. A couple of weeks ago, there was a grunter who was so loud that I thought he was being tortured by a red-hot needle. It almost made me uncomfortable. As for me, sometimes I grunt, but not very loudly. I don’t feel like grunting more loudly would make me able to lift any more weight. I guess it’s all about the position your throat is in while you’re lifting.

And now I must quote an excerpt from a poem by my friend Aaron Smith, “Working Out with the Boys”:

They could be making love,
    these straight boys, judging
        from the sounds, their breathing

themselves down while other men watch
    or help. Someone saying, Come on,
        come on, push it, push: a final

exhausted, trembling, high
    fives, a shirt raised to wipe sweat
        from a face….

It goes on. Such a great poem.

[grunt]

Matt and I have been rehearsing with our chorus (and several other choruses) the past couple of days for a performance at Carnegie Hall tomorrow night of the Fauré Requiem. It’s our chorus conductor’s Carnegie Hall debut.

In the past, I’ve sung both the Fauré Requiem and the Duruflé Requiem, which are often paired together on CDs. (I sung the Fauré with my college Glee Club. We traveled up to Massachusetts and sang it under a conductor we nicknamed “Flanders,” because he looked just like him. (Remember, Tim?))

I’ve usually preferred the Duruflé to the Fauré. The Duruflé is more sophisticated and flowing (and it’s based on Gregorian chant, which gives it extra points in my book). So I’ve often denigrated the Fauré. But this weekend has rehabilitated it. Although it’s a simpler piece of music, it’s still very beautiful in its own right, and it has some thrilling moments.

After today’s rehearsal, a bunch of guys from my chorus went drinking. Either the margaritas were really strong, or Matt and I are both lightweights. Whatever the cause, although I’d planned to go the gym at some point today, it really doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen.

Also: when we got home, we chose to watch “Commander in Chief” and “Smallville” on the TiVo. And you know what?

Alcohol doesn’t make either show any better.

I just spent 15 minutes stressing over the proper way to spell “resume” in a cover letter. Accents or no?

Turns out it doesn’t really matter.