Tranquility and the Revolution: Moondog

The long anticipated Moondog: A whimsical short film by Len Borruso

With many special thanks to:

Tad Neuhaus for always playing and selecting the perfect accompaniment,

Elyse-Krista Mische who made Moondog's costume on very short notice,

John Fleckner who agreed to play Moondog with even shorter notice,

Len Borruso who agreed to film, direct, and edit the whole thing on the shortest notice of all,

Therese Joanis of Top Spins and Luke Jacobs of Jacobs Meat Market for their willingness to play along,

Dane Richeson for letting us play his beautiful instruments,

and

Andrew Dane and Rory Olson for always being game.






Moondog from Ekphrasis where you can view all the Tranquility and the Revolution short films and discover where the cassette tape binders came from.

Finally! Spring Comes to Wisconsin!

another whimsical short film by Len Borruso, Joanna Dane, and Tad Neuhaus 

with special musical guest I Dewa Ketut Alit Adnyana

click here to view on youtube

Tranquility and the Revolution: Zeno Effect

What we thought was a podcast, turned out to be a silent film.

photo by Len Borruso

film by Len Borruso
music by Tad Neuhaus and Joanna Dane

The Insanity Manuscript

Some speculate that The Insanity Manuscript does not exist, that the author has only imagined it. 

Others argue that in imagining it, it exists.

Is existence a continuum or an absolute?

Is there anything that doesn't exist?

On Using Office Paper and Naming Un-Namable Things

Instead of writing in blank journals, I am now writing on extra long office paper, which among artists is a grave faux pas.  Not the extra long part, but the office paper part, office paper being inferior, the lowliest class of paper; nonarchival, amateur.  

That's to say nothing about the Sharpie, that starts to fade the moment it hits the paper.  

How much time until it disappears altogether these words I'm writing today January 15, 2016?  

Is it fair to believe they need archival quality?   

My dad told me to save it all.  So for the most part I have.  

Mostly likely, my husband will throw it all in a dumpster behind Target once I've gone senile. 

Or maybe one brilliant night, I'll decide to make a bonfire of it.

For now, I'm adding stacks of extra long office paper to the archive.  

I like the length of this paper and the freedom to shuffle the pages, working on many small things while working on one big thing.  

The Insanity Manuscript, from how I understand it, is the manuscript Tranquility is working on, inspired by Pessoa, works that can not, by definition, ever be finished.  

I got an email from Judy, my friend from Tucson who I first approached years ago in the little park by our house, having overheard her talking about her novel-writing group. 

 Judy is a wonderfully sharp critic with a biting edge that always makes me laugh.  

This time, she went easy on me.  "We can go there, but don't name it that."

Frankly, it is beyond my control.

The Insanity Manuscript, A (excerpt from Tranquility and the Revolution)

The author's attitude towards the Insanity Manuscript wavers between boundless enthusiasm and hopeless doubt.

During bouts of uncertainty, she considers moving to an organic farm where she will pick berries barefooted, and converse with earnest young farmers, where she will have no need to write any of it down or take a picture or make an audio recording.

But for the time being, she clings to her tenuous hold on The Insanity Manuscript, desperate to not let it slip through her fingers.

Work in Progress, B

A conversation:

Do you like the name?

No.

Why not?

It’s too. . . . hippie.

Hippie?

Yeah. 

Interesting.

Don’t you think?

I hadn’t thought of it like that.

It’s not bad, necessarily.  It’s just not my thing. 

I understand. 

But, I don’t know, it’s like you just want to do it, right?, and you don’t care whether or not anyone pays attention to it.  Because if you cared, you would pick a name that would be. . . . better. 

Like what?

Like. . . . The Pelican.

The Pelican.

Yes. 

Why, The Pelican?

Because it’s a cool name. 

I see. 

So. . . . what is it exactly?

I’m not sure. 

Fiction or Nonfiction?

Why does everyone always ask that?

Because it’s nice to know. 

Why?

It makes it more exciting, you know, if it really happened. 

What if you believe it’s a true story, and you become totally inspired by the story because it’s true and change your life because of it and then you find out it’s not true. 

Why would it matter?

That’s what I’m saying.

Work in Progress, A

a selection from 

Tranquility and the Revolution

a conversation:

What’s the theme?

How do you mean?

You know, the theme.

I’ve never really understood that very well.

That’s okay, it doesn’t have to have a theme.

It doesn’t?

Well, I mean it does, but . . . .

It’s not always obvious?

Yeah.

But sometimes it’s obvious.

Of course.

Not for me.  

It's like a motif.

A decorative ornamentation?

A dominant idea.

It probably has one, but I have no idea what it is.