When I started clerkmanifesto seven years ago I imagined at some point I might have a large, engaged readership.
No, wait, that's not right.
When I started clerkmanifesto seven years ago I hoped it would bring me worldwide acclaim, but mostly I suspected it wouldn't, and that it would all be too much for me to keep up with, and I would slowly fade out of writing it over a couple of months until I quietly just dropped it without anyone much noticing.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that its level of popularity would remain so tenaciously tiny, all while my dedication to it would be so devoted, involved, and steadfast. My process of coping with my lack of popularity has been a long and complicated road. I started with glimmers of hope, followed by periods of frustration, occasional moments of rage, mildly depressing periods of stunned disbelief, then bouts of mature disappointment, then bemusement, rage again, glimmers of understanding, refusal, acceptance, then irritation, and then, perhaps most helpfully, sections of genuine disinterest.
At this point if I really, emotionally and structurally, need a larger, more engaged audience I just make it up.
Which is how I came to receive this letter written by myself over the course of the next several minutes:
Dear Clerkmanifesto;
I have been following your interesting and wide ranging blog for a couple of years now, but have kept my appreciation and regard mainly to myself. Your regular posting is sustaining enough for me, and certainly I like some of your whimsies and musings better than others. Every once in awhile, with time on my hands, I delve into your rather deep back catalog, and I have passed a few edifying evenings here or there in such endeavor.
It rather caught my attention when you began adding photography to your missives, and I am surprised and delighted by how compelling I have found this to be. I mean this as no slight to your writing, which I enjoy, but I merely consider these pictures an added dimension providing more to appreciate as I peruse clerkmanifesto. It is also your photography that has elicited this first letter of mine to you.
A scant few days ago a young gentleman reader of yours (he seemed quite young indeed to be a reader of your rather complicated blog) expressed in no uncertain terms that he was interested in pictures of bunnies. He was very interested in bunnies. He was charmingly passionate about his interest in bunnies! I pleasantly delighted in seeing you so fully indulge the young chap, and it quite got me thinking.
I am not a tremendous fan of bunnies (though I still enjoyed those pictures). However I am something of a very amateur entomologist. And I couldn't resist breaking my usual silence here to inquire as to whether you might have any photographs in my line. Surely a bug or two must have wandered across a couple of those flowers you so beautifully photograph? If so I would be extremely appreciative if you considered sharing some of those "bug" pictures with us. I don't expect much, but I would be so thankful for anything along the six-legged line. Wings, of course, are always a plus.
Thank you again for anything you can provide.
I remain your devoted reader,
Adley Cameron Brutus Wanderwillow III
How very kind of you to write Adley. I am happy to provide a selection of pictures of insects that I have taken in my wanderings. I am ignorant as to all but the simplest of names for any of these (e.g. a kind of a bee, a dragonfly, moth...), so feel free to identify as you like. As ever this comes from my rare collection of pictures that are "mostly in focus". The last is a shot of pure luck, perhaps even my luckiest so far (yes, he's flying).
I hope you enjoy them!
I took care of several things all at once while running requests out to our pick up table in the course of my library's curbside book delivery. Then, suddenly, it came to me:
So many birds, so few stones.
So many birds, so few stones.
So many birds, so few stones.
So many birds, so few stones.
For a moment I was terribly pleased at my cleverness until I realized that I don't want to hurt any birds, and it all fell apart.
Not terribly long ago I got a wireless doorbell for the front desk at our library. The idea was that it would function as a bit of a panic button to the backroom for when everything got very, very busy and help was needed. It was popular, but it wasn't used a lot.
Then came the Coronavirus. And with the Coronavirus came our complicated curbside pick up. Our doorbell was repurposed and has been heavily in action for people without cell phones. This doorbell set up comes with one doorbell that's battery powered and two receivers that have to be plugged in anywhere within a couple hundred feet. There are five volume levels and they can be set to play any of 15 or 20 different songs.
I love this doorbell.
The first doorbell song during the Pandemic was an incredibly annoying, circusy sort of ditty, loud and long and sounding like an ice cream truck. This choice was the one that played for awhile, often to staff members groans. But eventually I decided to stop punishing all my co-workers as several of them were in no way at fault for... all of this. Plus I was tired of making the joke "The ice cream truck is here! Should I get you a bomb pop?"
After that we went through a few different doorbell songs. We had the Nutcracker for a time. Then we had a Christmas song that I didn't realize was a Christmas song until one of my co-workers complained about Christmas songs in June, so I agreed to change it. I'm still not sure what Christmas song it was. Some of the Doorbell songs are hard to place because they tend to be fast, strangely intense versions of traditional songs, very electronic, and with many bell and chiming effects to them.
So after the Christmas song I found a very pretty tune and left it at that. But the more times I heard it and its incredibly familiar melody, the more I wanted to know what it was. I simply couldn't place it even as I spent the whole day walking around humming it and asking people what it was.
Once my friend Jim showed me an app on his i phone where you can play it any song and it would tell you what it was. I found a likely young co-worker and asked if they had this app. They did! I went over to play the doorbell song for the app. The problem is that when you hit the button on the doorbell receiver to play the song it moves on to the next option, so I had to scroll through all the songs to get to the one I needed.
There was only one problem:
I couldn't find it.
I cycled through all the songs, which all played alarmingly loud throughout the backroom of the library, and then I did it again. But my song was nowhere to be found. It was mystifying. But I simply couldn't find it again and had to give up. So I wistfully set the ringer to Scarborough Fair and did just that; I gave up. I figured I'd never know that insanely familiar, strangely missing song.
At least I knew Scarborough Fair, and the ringer did a fair simulation of making it all agreeably flutey.
A couple of days later I was working on a computer over by where the person who answered the doorbell (called "The Runner") was working. I decided out of mischief I would try playing various flute and classical type versions of Scarborough Fair on YouTube on my computer to see if The Runner would notice that my music was more or less the same as the doorbell's.
They didn't notice.
So I worked. And largely unnoticed the YouTube algorithm played various versions of Scarborough Fair and then decided to move on to something similar.
It played Pachabel's Canon in D.
That was the song!
As I bring my photographs to the wee community of clerkmanifesto I find that some people like pictures of flowers, some prefer bees and interesting bugs, and some like
I LIKE BUNNIES.
Yes, well hello there.
I LIKE THE PICTURES OF BUNNIES. MORE BUNNIES!
Right, so it is lovely to hear from people and find out what they...
YESTERDAY YOU HAD LIKE 85 PICTURES OF SQUIRRELS!
You don't like squirrels?
I LIKE BUNNIES!
SQUIRRELS EARS IS too SMALL.
IT'S TIME FOR BUNNIES!
Would you like me to show some pictures of bunnies then?
YES I WOULD PLEASE.
THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Okay then, coming right up!
YAAAAAYYYYY!!!!!
Didn't you already do a blog post called "The Jane Goodall of the squirrels"?
Hey! Who's asking the questions around here?
I guess you are. Fire away.
Do all the squirrels know you and treat you as one of the family?
Only in the sense that sometimes I have noticed squirrels running away from other squirrels.
What have you learned living with the squirrels?
Well, I don't, you know, live with them. I visit them occasionally for five or ten minutes.
What have you learned living with the squirrels?
Nothing?
What have you learned living with the squirrels?
I have learned that not only do squirrels have distinctive appearances, but they also have discernible personalities. Like, one might want nothing to do with me. One might be so absorbed in eating they don't care. And one might be positively curious about me, which is super flattering and I am always tempted to offer my blog address to that squirrel and suggest they pop in and look around here at clerkmanifesto for pictures of themselves.
Hey, this is my blog too!
Cool.
Cool.
Super cool.
Dy-no-mite.
You said it!
Brothers for life!
Closer than brothers, same person!
Totally.
Completely.
How about a bunch of squirrel pictures?
I'll see if I can find any in focus. Pay attention to how different they look!
It is not super obvious to me, but then I am not The Jane Goodall of the Squirrels. You are!
Thank you.
I have held onto this true story for at least a couple of years. I didn't know what to do with it. I still don't know what to do with it or what it means, but it sure isn't getting any fresher sitting on the shelf. In fact, I think it might be starting to mold in the warm Summer air.
So I'll just be scraping that mold off and telling the grimm fairy tale of...
The Library Director
Once upon a time a library wanted to hire a new library director because the old one was all used up. So their heralds put out a call through all the land and people came from throughout the region to apply. Overwhelmed by the response the (possibly evil) chancellor chose just three of them at random to choose from.
An interview committee was formed.
The first applicant was interviewed. He wasn't particularly white, which totally wasn't the reason for any problems with him because that would violate official County policy. It was much more that he was very forceful. He said "My way or the highway" an awful lot in his interview.
So they sent him to the highway.
The second applicant was very relaxed. He leaned back in his chair and said "Whatever" a lot. He didn't seem to have a care in the world. He didn't seem to care what happened, so they sent him on his way too.
He probably didn't mind, and then had a nap.
The third applicant said all the right things. She was very polite. She was very interested in the job. She was from Marketing and knew how to say lots of... stuff.
She said stuff about listening and being proactive and growing potential and best practices and building consensus and serving our community partners.
So they hired her.
Which goes to show just how terrible and clueless fairy tales can be. Unless it goes to show how Goldilocks gets away with everything.
Or maybe it doesn't show anything at all.
One of my library circulation colleagues transferred a library patron up to the librarians for some simple thing, commenting about how excellent the librarians are and what a huge help they will be. When she got off the phone I noted that the librarians are not particularly excellent at all and teased her about her about her naivety and innocence.
A few moments later the branch manager emerged from his office, having overheard, to say to my colleague reassuringly that our librarians are indeed quite excellent.
As ever when I say joking on the square, brash statements that are called out in one form or another I doubt myself. And so I did this time. Sure I was half joking, but what kind of thing was that to say about our librarians? All they have ever done has been to devote themselves to the furthering of knowledge and to the providing of access to information essential to the human spirit and the functioning of Democracy, science, and the advancing of the human experiment!
Then I spent the afternoon cleaning up after all the stupid, lazy, and self entitled things they did.
A lot of white, rural, and outer ring suburban older Americans are currently wondering:
Why all of the sudden is the Bureau of Land Management so popular?
The mysterious flower spy has been terrorizing the (formerly) quiet neighborhoods of the Twin Cities for months now. What's he up to? Why flowers? Is he a harbinger of the end of civilization? Finally we sit down for a frank, one-on-one discussion with the notorious flower spy. This is quite a coup for Clerkmanifesto, the blog that has been carefully reporting on the activities of the flower spy since the story first broke.
Have you been following the coverage of your endeavors around the Internet, on Social Media, in the Newspapers, and on the TV?
Well, I read your blog. I don't believe anyone else has mentioned me in any way.
You read my blog! Oh my god! Tell me more!
Uh. I guess mostly I look at the pictures of flowers.
Oh. You mean the ones you took?
The writing part is nice too.
You think so?
Very nice. Maybe a little confusing sometimes, but yes, I like it.
My cheeks are all pink. Can you see how pink my cheeks are?
Yes, they're very pink.
So why flowers, and, quite frankly, what kind of devilry are you up to?
Um, I don't know if there's any devilry, but the flowers are really pretty. And I wanted to show you what they looked like up a bit closer.
Oh, we were thinking it was something more nefarious, maybe Antifa or something. You're not collecting secret information or anything?
I sort of am.
Ohhhhhhhh. Tell us more. Tell us all the secret information!
No, I mean, there's just a lot of pretty things that are happening close up in flowers with all the colors and light and secret flower parts, and one wouldn't see those normally even as one looks at a flower and admires it at a regular distance. So it's fun to take real close up pictures and sort of, I don't know, reveal it all.
So is this why the newspaper and Social Media hasn't mentioned you and you are pretty much completely unknown everywhere in the whole world?
I guess? I don't know why they would mention me.
Because you're the flower spy! You make the neighborhoods quake with fear. Squirrels run for the trees as you pass. Blackbirds flush into the air!
If you say so. I just thought it would be nice to take some pictures. I kind of think squirrels run for the trees when anyone passes.
Hmm. Let me think for a second here. Hmmmmmm.... okay... You've convinced me. But now I feel sad. Do you think this is why all my flower spy posts have been kind of unpopular?
People really seemed to like the pictures.
!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sorry.
So you're definitely not Antifa?
Oh no, I'm totally antifa, just, it's only with a small "a".
A small "a"?
always.
So the flower pictures are all to fight Fascism?
Exactly.
Did you bring one of your incendiary, extremely dangerous pictures of flowers to fight Fascism with?
Um, yes?
We are terribly excited to announce that Clerkmanifesto, this very blog that you are now reading, has
Nope, we lost them. No longer reading.
We are terribly excited to announce that Clerkmanifesto, this very blog that you are now reading, has
Nope, they scrolled down to the picture.
Maybe you should just start it differently?
Clerkmanifesto has done the impossible! We have landed an interview with the dreaded terror of the sidewalks, the flower spy!
Yes, I know, I can hardly believe it myself, but we are going to interview the flower spy!
Pinch me. Ow.
Who is the flower spy?
Um. I guess you haven't checked in on my blog for a week or so. He's like, this guy who walks around taking pictures of flowers. It's all very outre.
What does outre mean?
I haven't any idea really. Let me look it up.
(Holding music plays, traditionally in this blog we use the classic composition 4'33" by John Cage)
Okay, "outre" means unusual and startling.
Have you ever thought of changing the name of clerkmanifesto to "Outre"?
No. And I really don't see what you're getting at.
So, how did this flower spy agree to an interview?
It was crazy! I just asked him. I don't know what I was thinking, but it worked!
I don't know how to say this, but, this doesn't exactly seem like an interview with the flower spy. It seems more like an interview with, well, you.
Oh.
Will there be an interview with the flower spy?
I don't know. He's very reclusive. And secretive. And outre.
So...?
Maybe tomorrow?
Again, not criticizing, but, is like every single blogpost forever going to be about the flower spy now?
I mean, not every...
They're not very popular with the readers are they?
They do like the pictures.
What?
They like the pictures.
Ohhhhhhh. Will this one have a picture?
Okay.
What?
Okay.
Here is the legendary and dreaded flower spy roaming the sidewalks of a ravaged city. He is disguised as a mild mannered photographer.
"Hee hee hee" The flower spy cackles, for he has spotted a likely flower. It's yellow with white petals.
Hey! Flower spy. What kind of flower is that?
"I don't know." Says the flower spy. "I'm a flower spy not a flower scientist."
Botanist.
"God bless you." Replies the flower spy.
He's joking. But don't drop your guard.
"Why shouldn't I drop my guard?" Asks someone who has now entered the conversation.
Because he is the flower spy. He can be very charming and then zap! pow! He is taking a picture of a flower!
What kind of a flower is this?
I don't know, I'm not a botanist either.
HEY, CAN WE GET A BOTANIST IN HERE?
Sorry. We don't have a lot of readers here at clerkmanifesto so we borrowed this one.
Hey, there is a bug on this flower!
Cool.
No no no. Stop him. Stop the flower spy. It is not cool. HE IS TAKING PICTURES OF FLOWERS!
Stop
The
Flower
Spy!
"You and what army?"
This one.
For taking pictures of flowers?
Yes, more or less.
Oh.
Are bunnies okay?
