GK: It happens. You're with a girl you want to be your girlfriend-----
FN (TO HIMSELF, DREAMILY): Esme' ----- Esme' Schwartz.
GK: And she invites you to a club to hear this singer----- (CLUB AMBIENCE, TAPE)
SS: I don't know if you'll like her or not and really it's all right if you don't, I just identify with her music and her whole take on the world, she is so not like anybody else, and when I listen to her sing, it's like her music is coming out of me, and that's MY life she's singing about, that's MY pain and MY people ----- I just feel this whole TRANSFERENCE, you know what I mean?
FN: Yeah. I think so.
GK: Actually what you feel is nausea. (SFX) It was that smoothie you had half an hour ago, with the raw egg in it. They warn you against raw egg and this is why. (SFX)
SS: I got us seats right down front.
FN: Oh. Great. (SFX)
SS: Cool, huh?
GK: And out comes the singer Laura Crystal.
HM: Hi. Namaste. Thank you for coming tonight. And if you feel like singing along, please do.
(SHE SINGS, W GUITAR)
HM: Rhythms of nebulae above our heads
And the purple disillusionment of abandoned futons
In the disembodied Ferris wheels of circumstance.
GK: And your girlfriend loves it and that egg in your stomach is churning. (STOMACH GURGLING).
Life is an endless process of regret because the moon talked back.
And the whisper of prayer in the crimson canyons of my eyelids.
GK: Your girlfriend is in heaven and something terrible is happening. (STRONGER STOMACH GURGLING).
SS (HISS): Is that you?
FN (WHISPER): Sorry.
GK: The peristaltic contractions start. The unmistakable churning and the taste of stomach acid in your mouth. (SFX) What should you do? Maybe it will just go away. (SFX)
The camouflaged seduction of neon attitude
In the haze of sympathetic birthing
On the broken sidewalk where spiders metamorphosize
In a purgatory of pigeons.
SS (HISS): What IS that?
FN: Oh boy.
GK: It's not going to go away, it's knock knock knocking on your esophagus. (SFX, FN GAGS).
SS: What's wrong with you?
FN: (TO HIMSELF) Oh no. Oh no. Oh God, no. No.---- (BEGINS TO HURL, BEEP, SILENCE)
GK: THE NEXT 22 SECONDS OF THE SCENE HAVE BEEN EDITED OUT OF OUR BROADCAST IN DEFERENCE TO LISTENERS WHO MAY BE SITTING DOWN TO EAT OR WHO HAVE FOOD IN THEIR MOUTHS. NOTHING TO SEE HERE, NOTHING TO SEE HERE. WE NOW REJOIN THE SCENE IN PROGRESS).
(BEEP, SHOUTS, TURMOIL)
SS: Oh my god---- get away from me----
TR: Jeez, mister. Somebody get a mop!!!!
HM: I can't believe this. My shoes! My new sitar!
SS: Right on stage!!! You couldn't have done it in your lap???? Oh man.
TR: Let me out of here. I'm about to lose it.
HM: That's it. I've got to go.
SS: You're disgusting. I can't believe you did that.
TR: Excuse me!!! Coming through!!!!
HM: I feel sick.
SS: Get away from me. Go. You make me throw up.
(SHOUTS AND TURMOIL, FADE) (BRIDGE) (QUIET, TRAFFIC)
GK: And there you are out on the street, heading for the subway. You feel lighter. (FOOTSTEPS) Something horrible happened but now it's over and, okay, you lost the girlfriend, but you're not alone, you're in the city (FN SAX) and it's twinkling all around you, the lights, the little flower shop with the Tibetan guy there trying to interest you in some roses (TR SOFT TIBETAN) and cleaning ladies buying lottery tickets in the bodega (VOICES) and then you see a hot dog vendor.
TR: Hot dog hot dog, one dollar one dollar
GK: You look at the murky, steaming pool of wieners down there (SFX), and you're not sure.
TR: Fifty cents. For you, fifty cents.
GK: And you go for it.
FN: Sure. Why not? Give me two. With mustard and onions.
GK: Why not? You're in New York. If you can't take chances here, where can you?
Goodbye, goodbye Esme Schwarts-----
Sorry I threw up quarts and quarts.
I guess you'd like to shoot me with a pistol
For throwing up on Laura Crystal.
Sorry ----- hope you're okay.
And now I'm hitting the highway
I threw up and you got flustered
Now I'm eating dogs with mustard
Have a nice day, Esme.
Lovingly selected from the earliest archives of A Prairie Home Companion, this heirloom collection represents the music from earliest years of the now legendary show: 1974–1976. With songs and tunes from jazz pianist Butch Thompson, mandolin maestro Peter Ostroushko, Dakota Dave Hull and the first house band, The Powdermilk Biscuit Band (Adam Granger, Bob Douglas and Mary DuShane).