Rob Mamary

A Day in the Life of Rob Manary
                I wake up each night at midnight when the alarm clock goes off. My clock has the handy feature of two alarm settings. Somehow I have managed to set the secondary alarm for midnight and have no idea how to reset it. I turn the alarm off and go back to sleep. The alarm goes off again at six. I hit the snooze button. The alarm goes off again ten minutes later. I hit the snooze button. This vicious dance often happens for an hour or longer.
                Finally I launch myself out of bed and sprint for the bathroom. I am now late, as usual. In the bathroom I brush my teeth, sometimes shave, often shower, and always strike poses in front of the mirror. My reflection flexes with me and silently urges me to get back to the gym. I push my belly out as far as I can and realize I would not make a sexy pregnant woman.
                Breakfast is most often a granola bar or a handful of almonds or peanut butter on saltines, or maybe I dump the remnants of a bag of potato chips down my throat. There are always eggs in the house but my ambition to whip up such culinary delights is often lacking.  I eat in the kitchen in my towel so as not to mess up my fancy school clothes.
                Back in my bedroom I try to remember which dress shirt I wore last, the blue one or the purple one. I should label them, one for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the other for Tuesday and Thursday. I have a third shirt but it’s been missing for weeks. I really should buy another couple of dress shirts.
                I walk to school and write in my mind scenes for whichever novel I am working on. At school I hit the bank of computers in the student lounge area. The three computers on the end of the row are almost always vacant. On one the space bar doesn’t work unless you apply Herculean like pressure, on another the “E” key is temperamental, and the third I can’t recall the malfunction but am always pleasantly surprised when I find it. I choose the computer with the semi working space bar. I send out my transmissions.
                An acquaintance of mine has a friend who believes kelp farming is the future and is trying to grow kelp in his backyard in large steel drums. He also once explained to me the concept of a flying house and the tax advantages living in such a house would provide. This guy has found thousands of like minded individuals on the internet. I suppose their end goal is a community of self sufficient kelp farmers who fly town to town selling seaweed.
                The point of the last paragraph is this. There is a community for everyone and I spend half an hour or so a day sending out smoke signals to my community. I haven’t found them yet, but I hope they find me soon. I’m really kinda looking for the Wizard of Oz, the guy behind the curtain, the Great Architect of the Universe, Osiris, God, call him what you will. I’m looking for fellow seekers of the light. I’m not sure if that sounded profound or crazy.
                In class I am the oldest student there. I’m proud I’ve gone back to school after a twenty year hiatus. I try not to let the thought that my classmates weren’t even born when I graduated high school get me down. I feel a little sorry that they never knew the joy of a Commodore 64 or a cassette player, and that they likely don’t know who Mrs. Garrett or Evel Knievel is.
                When I finish school I go home and have a nap. My naps are legendary and can often last five or six hours. Then I write, and go to bed early because I know the alarm will wake me at midnight. When I have a chance I eat vast quantities of fast food. I often eat only one meal a day but eat such a staggering amount of calories I am sustained like a bear in hibernation.

                Maybe more about writing? I try to write at least 2,000 words a day and usually succeed. I absolutely love writing; it is my favorite part of the day. At school I fantasize about my stories and often have to force myself to concentrate on the lecture. There is absolutely nothing like the thrill I find in creating, in forming words into pictures on the page. For me, it is the best part of any day. And that is pretty much a day in my life.

Author - Rob Manary
I live a respectable little life in a respectable little town that almost doesn’t really get the Artiste in me.  So, that’s why no real profile pic of my smiling mug.  Perhaps someday… we’ll see.
Until then, I hope you’ll stick around and visit often… perhaps to read my blog? I’m telling all there, holding back no secrets. You’ll learn more than you ever wanted to know but I hope, at least, that the humorist in me makes you smile while reading.
Oh yes, I’m even documenting everything as I work out the details of “Me, Inc! (read my first blog post) and am posting my Financials. It’s a wild ride! Join me…
Blurb for The Robblogger Diaries:
One of the funny damn collection of blog posts you will ever read! Seriously! Ask anyone!
Not only funny, but heartwarming, too! This collection has everything. Seriously!

On a more serious note:
While blogging as Robblogger, I attained a strange almost cult like status among a number of aspiring writers and middle aged housewives. I was even told by more seasoned bloggers that in such a short time I shouldn’t be experiencing the growth and attention I was getting. I’m proud of the writing I did as Robblogger, and think I even had a couple groupies.

They are responsible for this. They insisted I publish this collection. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and at the very least, get a smile or two from it. At the very most, belly laughs and not a dry eye in the house!

Thank you for your time. I'm honored that you've chosen my book to read.
Blurb for Strangers on a Bus:
If you liked When Harry Met Sally, you'll fall in love with Robb and Gertrude from Strangers on a Bus...

Robb is crushed by a failed relationship with the love of his life and finds himself unexpectedly on a long bus trip from his adopted home in the U.S. back to his native Canada.

At the first stop in NYC, a girl gets on and so begins a contemplation of life, love, and strange events that will bring tears of laughter and heartache streaming down your face.

Is this girl Robb's real true love or just a rebound? How far can they get on a bus ride anyway?

This is a true story.
Blurb for Insane Naked Strangers:
Love cut-up poetry but haven't heard of Rob Manary?
Love poetry but aren't familiar with the cut-up method?
Not sure about poetry but want to try some?
Any combination of the above or something else entirely?

This is for you! A chance to experience a sampling of my style of the cut-up poetry method made popular by William S. Burroughs and David Bowie.

Try it? You might love it! And if you do, the full collection awaits you...
Naked Dinner (33.3 Poems for William S. Burroughs) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KOXK9O0/
This is a three book set that includes:
Naked Dinner, my ode to William S. Burroughs - from four different Canadian newspapers dated May 6th 2014.
An Insane Lad, dedicated to David Bowie - from the lyrics to David Bowie's album, Aladdin Sane.
Strangers, a cut-up of one of the chapters of another of my works, Strangers on a Bus.
Website:  www.robmanary.com
Amazon Pagehttp://www.amazon.com/Rob-Manary/e/B00GEZX2C8/

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