Next to music, beer was best.

When pleasure needs no justification

There's something quietly honest about putting beer second to music—not because beer is profound, but because McCullers understood that the best things in life don't need to justify themselves. They just work. We live in an age of optimized wellness and self-improvement, where every pleasure gets interrogated: Is this good for me? Is this meaningful? Will this help me grow? Meanwhile, sometimes you just want something that tastes good and loosens the knot in your chest.

What makes this observation stick is that beer and music aren't even in the same category, yet they occupy the same emotional space. Both are social, both are about sharing a moment, both hit something in you that facts and arguments can't touch. McCullers isn't ranking pleasures on a moral hierarchy—she's describing the texture of being alive and present with other people. The beer isn't the point; it's permission to relax. The music isn't background; it's the whole reason you're there.

In our optimization-obsessed moment, there's something almost radical about simply naming what makes you feel less alone, less worried, more yourself. Not because it's improving you, but because sometimes that's exactly enough.