Meanwhile in Pamplona...: The Selwyn Diaries Part One

It is the biggest news to come out of the rock world. After almost a decade of dusty confinement in the back of Aileen's closet, the newly resurfaced diaries from Selwyn's ill-fated 1989 tour will soon find their way into a book.

"I got sick of people asking me, what happened? what happened? Whatever! It just ended. Read it yourself, if you have to. Now leave me alone, I've got some whittling to do."

It may have just ended, but for too many that doesn't explain the demise of The Biggest Band of the First Half of 1989. Fans, historians and scientists alike are salivating at the idea of reading, in her own words, anything that might help them understand why. They are hoping that the diaries will tell them what Aileen and Erica refuse to say. And The Cuyahoga Falls Intelligencer has procured an exclusive excerpt:

Thursday, 3 April -
Last night, after a pretty miserable show, I went searching for a technobar. I was saddened to find that Pamplona either did not have any or I was looking in all the wrong places. Fortunately my spirits were lifted when I returned to the hotel by the sight of those premier Southern rockers, Lynyrd Skynyrd, partying in the lobby. We talked and compared notes - much like rock stars do - and found they had also come expecting a good run with the bulls. We'd all figured they just let the bulls go periodically to run through the streets, goring unsuspecting tourists while the locals ran alongside them cheering and waving red kerchiefs (I always picture Spaniards waving red kerchiefs, like, all the time). But it turns out that they only do it during the Fiesta of San Fermin in July. Oh well.

Anyway, Erica was there, but she left pretty early into the night. Too bad, 'cause that's when the party really got started! Out came the instruments and the drinks, and we jammed - much like rock stars do - to all of Skynyrd's greatest hits. This went on and on until our climactic hour-and-a-half long rendition of "Freebird" in which I totally rocked out on my pan flute. Yeah!

At about four, we all said our good-byes and I went back to my room to prepare for our unscheduled stop at Fantasy Island, which is apparently near Pamplona. I've been thinking about what fantasy I want for myself. It hasn't been easy (there are so many!), but I think I've got just the right one. I wonder whose fantasy it is to see us?

Saturday, 5 April -
Well, well, well diary...it was Mandy Candy Sandy who requested our presence on the island, as if she doesn't run into us everyday anyway. It seems she's doing some sort of documentary on us for WNRDSNM Radio back home and we had to spend Friday sucking up to her. Sometimes she can really be annoying...

Ah, but today was my fantasy. I had told Mr. Roarke that I wanted to spend a day with Doug - doing what he does, being where he is. Suddenly there was before me the Flipadee Armenian Donut Hut, right there in the woods, complete with Autumn the redneck countergirl and an assortment of customers. I looked around and there he was - Doug! Mmmm.

We spent the rest of the day eating powdered donuts and staring out the window. No one seemed to notice that the trailer park was nowhere around. It wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, but it is what he does...and I did get the large vat of fried catfish I requested. I think next time I'll be more specific. In any case, we go to Paris next. Au revoir.

Monday, 7 April -
In gay Paree and yesterday we stopped by the Maison d'Eauclaire to pay our respects to the ladies who taught Carmine Lynne back home everything she knows about massage. Unfortunately, they were all dead, but we did get luxurious treatment anyway. It was a great feeling after having spent almost a week with those horrid scabs all over my body from the Barcelona incident. Erica kept staring at my shoulder again, poking at my birthmark and making those tsk-tsk sounds. So it looks like Dan Fogelberg, so what? It is NOT a tattoo! Whatever! She's just uptight from all her "lessons."

Anyway, last night I hooked up with one Luc Fauteuil, who showed me what real Parisians do. We spent the evening at a hole in the wall cafe in the Arrondissement of Montmartre and then we went to a house party. I managed to drag him away from the festivities to an office, where after rummaging through the drawers I found - of all things - a staple gun. We got totally naked and I spent the rest of the night making him run back and forth as I pressed down on the stapler, flicking little aluminum bullets at his most sensitive areas. He kept screaming, but I know he liked it.

When I was fully satisfied we got dressed and entered the main room to much applause (I guess they heard). Luc's fearful face turned into macho yeah-I-got-laid bullshit, which really disgusted me, so I left. YUCK!!!!! On the way to the hotel I noticed a dark figure staring over the side of a bridge by the Seine. Upon closer inspection I saw that it was Dahli (is everyone here?), who looked up startled when I said hey. She smiled and mumbled something about meeting Emmett then ran off into the night.

The rest of the way back I kept thinking about what I've been trying not to think about - that idiot David, who fell into my crocodile pit onstage in Spain and was eaten. It's not as if we haven't had the damn thing at every show we've done for the past year! What was he doing running around back there anyway, messing with Fluffy and Moe? Erica and the rest of our cast keep insisting that I get rid of it, but they just don't understand at all. I look at them and think of those days down home on the bayou, when I would sit on Mammy's lap while she told me stories of the original settlers and the voodoo witches would come by with herbs and stuff. Small minds, alas!

Today was uneventful. We had a great show and I decided to just go to bed, so here I am. And here I go. Night, night.

Tuesday, 8 April -
Today we were presented with the keys to the city of Paris and Erica proceeded to make a stupid joke about patisseries that no one understood. Her ankles were scratched raw and she had a small fly swatter with white fur stuck to the mesh sticking out of her back pocket. I'm not even going to speculate.

After that we hopped on a plane to Istanbul. Ironically enough, the movie for the evening was "Midnight Express," which left me feeling a little queasy. As far as I know I don't have anything that'll make me a target, except for Fluffy and Moe, but Raynelle assured me that she cleared it all at customs. I've heard they have excellent fish and carpets there. We're supposed to land sometime in the afternoon, so if I'm not feeling jetlagged I think I'll go explore.

Erica looks a little concerned, but she won't tell me what's going on. I have a feeling that she and Sting have had some sort of spat. To my great irritation, both of them seem upset, but it could be the in-flight movie. Sting is on his knees ignoring the stewardess (excuse me, flight attendant) that keeps ramming her cart into him, blocking me from the scrod I can see just a few feet away. Move dammit!!! Erica may call it quits anyway - she has alluded to that. I'm not really surprised, though. He's...off. I can only imagine him behind closed doors. I hope he's not treating Erica badly. What's that about being careful what you wish for? It makes me wonder - along with my fantasy on the island (which, yes, was pretty lame) - that maybe I don't want Doug after all. Maybe I don't know what I want. Or maybe I just want to dance at a technobar.

Wednesday, 9 April -
This evening's show was excellent! I must say that it was enhanced by the presence of Efe, the boy who sold me a particularly tasty fish snack while I looked at all the rugs. Yesterday, after we had landed and checked into the hotel, I decided to go on an adventure to the markets. I approached a gorgeous dark figure with dark eyes and thick black hair sitting in a booth. Oh, but I could hardly stand being next to him without jumping in and having him take me there among the animals. Luckily, with my rudimentary Turkish and his basic English, I got him back to the hotel, where he spent hours teaching me indigenous dances.

Early this morning we snuck out to his grandfather's farm, where we spent the day running naked in the fields. Suddenly, there was before me a slightly bemused Erica and Raynelle. How they found me I do not know, but I have a feeling that Mandy Candy Sandy must be here. The four of us drove back to the concert. Sting was there, looking rather down, and I actually felt a little sorry for him. But that didn't last long. We threw on our stage clothes and ran out to a roaring crowd. It was during the third song, in which I really rock out, that I glanced back to see Efe and noticed he was playing with Fluffy and Moe. And they liked him! They don't even like Raynelle, who takes care of them more than I do. Yeah!

And so I sit here diary, with Efe curled at my feet, thinking that this one's definitely a keeper. More than Jorge, even more than Doug. I was planning on going to Erica's room to have an in-depth discussion about him seeing as how we haven't been talking to each other lately. She just keeps looking at me all concerned and I look at her like she has a problem. Anyway, when I knocked on her doorshe wouldn't open it. She kept asking me what the password was with a strange tone in her voice. I thought for a minute that she might still be upset about having to find me this afternoon until I heard laughter...but it could have been the TV. She absolutely refused to open the door! I wonder if she's being held hostage, but then I would think that wouldn't I? Oh well, I'll talk to her about it tomorrow. Night night.

Friday, 11 April -
It's back in the U.S. for us my friend, and what a trip it was. Well, not that too many exciting things happened, but enough to keep it interesting. I didn't bother asking Erica about the password thing seeing as how she felt uncomfortable even looking me in the eye the whole way back. I, of course, couldn't help but chuckle at her situation. I know, I know, I'm cruel, but when they found her stuck to the bed in much the same way I was in Barcelona, I couldn't help myself. Funny, though, everytime she passes by I feel like I'm at the beach. Whatever.

Anyway, we're in Kansas City tonight. I've had a great time telling Efe about the American wonders that Third World countries like...well, like everywhere but America...wish they had. Then I feel silly. I mean, it's not like he didn't study at university or something. In America. But no matter, I need to get ready for the show. I think maybe Erica and I should talk.

In The Beginning: The Selwyn Diaries Part Two

(With many thanks to Mopeychick for her part)