ONE HUNDRED MANIFESTOS

a declaration. a devotion. a quest.

One hundred.

That's how many manifestos I will write.

Why? Because it’ll be fun. Because it scares me senseless. Because I’m on a mission from God. Because I’ve been hiding in a labyrinth of perfectionistic over-planning. Because for ten months I’ve been yap yap yapping about how I wanna be The Manifesto Guy™ while barely writing any actual new manifestos.

Come on, bro. It’s time to live the new story. Leap of faith, baby. It’s time to write.

One. Hundred. Manifestos.

This quest might take six months (unlikely), two years (very likely), or a goddamn decade (oh lord). I don't know. It’ll take as long it takes. All I know is that I’m in it now. This is my covenant, consecrated here before this court of my dearest parasocial internet comrades. But mostly I’m declaring this for me. I’d sign it in blood if I could.

One. Hundred. Fucking. Manifestos.

I will write the manifestos I need to read. Manifestos that grab me by the shoulder and shake me free of the seductive copes of modernity, that shatter the comforting lies I’ve clung to, that make me giggle like a schoolgirl and roar like a dragon. I will be patient zero for the idea that manifestos are magic spells that, when cast with earnest zeal and a sly smile, help us remember that we are gloriously human and powerful beyond measure.

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I will write manifestos for startups and founders who strive to stand tall in this sterile world of spineless, focus-grouped brand promises. So too will I write manifestos for those ideal clients who haven’t paid me cash money (YET). Along the way, I will write manifestos for friends, for her, and for the causes, communities, and cats I love. Hell, maybe even for my avowed enemies. I will be an equal opportunity manifesto artisan.

*whispering seditiously in your ear* psssssssst. one hundred manifestos

I will write teeny tiny tweet-length manifestos and overwrought novella-length manifestos. I will write manifestos that are dreadfully serious and manifestos that are utterly ridiculous (possibly in the span of a single paragraph). I will uncork the stew of manifesto energy that has long bubbled beneath my fears and insecurities and let it flow freely. I will write in fits of revolutionary ecstasy, and let my work go before I feel ready. I will ship ship ship. Even when it scares me. Especially when it scares me.

Let’s fucking go. The Era of Manifesto Rob is officially upon us.

ONE HUNDRED MANIFESTOOOOOOOOOOS!!!!

Rob Hardy
April 1st, 2025
Tucson, AZ 🌵