all over but the shoutin'

one of the various perks to being single (assuming, of course, you are both single and an absolute nerd), is getting to read yourself to sleep.

now, i know some settled-in couples who read on their respective sides of the bed (my parents). prerequisites include but are not limited to: the both of you READ (less common than you'd think) and you've been together a long time. if you read together before bed AND you're a new couple, i have my concerns. aren't there OTHER things you should be doing to get to know one another? now, i'm not talking about what you think i'm talking about. except that, of course, i am. but also: movies, beers on the porch, various nighttime events you pretend to enjoy so that the other person will love you...

sure, any jennifer aniston romantic comedy involving cotton camis and boxers will tell you otherwise. mr. big and carrie might have you think couples sit beside each other, nestled in a gazillion thread count sheets, reading voltaire aloud to each other. not the case, in my experience. not at all the case.

i am only halfway through rick bragg's all over but the shoutin' and it is my favorite book. hell, it could end with marge simpson jumping rope for all i care, and it would still be my favorite book.

this, from only the PROLOGUE, people:

this is not an important book. it is only the story of a strong woman, a tortured man, and three sons who lived hemmed in by thin cotton and ragged history in northeastern alabama, in a time when blacks and whites found reason to hate each other and a whole lot of people could not stand themselves. anyone could tell it, anyone with a daddy who let his finer nature slip away from him during an icebound war in korea, who allowed the devil inside to come grinnin' out every time a sip of whiskey trickled in, who finally just abandoned his young wife and sons to the pity of their kin and to the well-meaning neighbors who came bearing boxes of throw away clothes.

you can read this, alone, and cry diane-keaton-style-a la-something's-gotta-give (as hannah would say). you can read this, alone, with a shot glass of cheap yellow tail sparkling by your bed, the same shot glass with white daisies on it your grandmother from new orleans left for you. and there's no one around to bug you about it besides yourself. and god, of course, who's probably elsewhere anyway, watching obama's berlin speech over and over again. on youtube.