—–
“It really is wonderful, Baker B. Can I call you Baker? Sir?”
“Sure. *Daniel* (smile). But what do you think of (the) Bill Hicks (stuff)?”
“Nice.” Then Daniel said what was on his mind since about 1/2way through the sync called “Father Fred.” “Soo, all this castle we’re sitting in now, this Howl’s Moving Castle, is about teaching your 4 old library friends a lesson?”
“Noo,” Baker began his defense. “It’s about *communication*. Stuff we couldn’t have in real life. A *nexus*.”
“Nexus, eh?”
“Nexus,” Baker reinforced. Had to watch his temper. What was so hard to understand about all this? he thought. Frank’s Moving Castle equals Howl’s Moving Castle equals “Frank’s Moving Mtn.” when combined with Zappa’s “Billy the Mountain” rock opera. Simple as pie.
“Soo…” Daniel rubs his forehead. It had been a long day. First working in the morning, then this at noon, then back to work at the studio in the afternoon. Baker was lonely, he gathered, had no one else to watch this stuff with, except the wife and their mutual best friend Kammie, he said. Thus me — here. And the whole Zappa thing. And now: Bill Hicks. The endpoint. It was brilliant, he knew. But he couldn’t say this directly to the man pacing back and forth in front of him. Had to put on a *front*. “I think I like ‘Peewee Big’ better. You *did* ask me to be candid with you,” he said, gauging the expression forming on Baker’s always sensitive face. But all that registered was acceptance.
“Of course. ‘Peewee Big’ is the peak of it all — in a way. But each one is very different, each has its own merits, its own place in the spectrum that is the process.” Baker had to curb his tongue here. He could speak for days about this. He couldn’t place himself in Daniel’s shoes, understand that he too was trying to develop his own creativity. He was 20 years younger than Baker, though. Hadn’t had time to refine the process like his friend, his co-worker had. He was being overshadowed. And the crack about his writing the other week (!). Still pisses him off when he thinks about it. Yeah, *I’m* a creator too, just like you Baker,” he’s said to himself numerous times since then. And I can do several things as well. Writing… art. Just like *you*.
“Great. We agree.” Daniel looks around the castle’s living room. Father Fecked was here too, just like in the sync. Amazing.
“Well, I guess I better get back to Cedar Creek. Got a sculpture to finish this afternoon.” But, typical, Baker didn’t ask about any details on *that*. Hmph. Ego. Can’t see beyond his own nose, Daniel thought here. I’ll be glad to blow this place. And he can’t smoke here either, another disadvantage. Too much wood in the structure to take a chance, Baker explained to him when he asked. Must… have… cigarette, PHEH.
Sunklands 