Andrew Thompson and his genius found me when I least expected it, and I'm not surprised. It was serendipity, or karma, or something Eastern or something. The stars were aligned, maybe.
The soundtrack to my summer was "We're In Business," by a certain electronic god named Andrew Thompson. None of you have ever heard this funky synth love, I know, but you will fall in love with it. Of this I am certain. Before you denounce my claims, please share this song from the internet -- for your soul, not mine.
It happened like this: Summer Session I, subletting, sleeping in. I awoke late from gorgeous sleep to find my horoscope warning me to expect the unexpected. I braced myself for four minutes, but nothing happened. I exhaled.
It was at this prodigious moment that my telephone rang itself to my attention. What news, what news? I cried. Seems my three idiot friends from home were roadtrippin' it to Philly for a little summer vacation. I feared the worst.
My friend Jon, upon arrival, signed onto AIM for a convo with his sugar-mama. Instantly, an IM shot through the, um, internet, and landed on my screen with an ascending "bablo-oOP?" 'Twas our strange loner friend Ben Nelson, salutatorian and general crumb-bum from high school, who wanted us to listen to a little song he found while cruising the Internet for meaning. What transpired was fluid happiness, simply. We circled City Hall continually for hours in a red Taurus, blaring Mr. Thompson's magic and loving existence and the ability to listen to it. Never trust robots, we sang. Perfection, in as many words.
-- Eric Plunkett