Pat McGowan enjoys sleeping and long walks in the rain. He generally avoids the beach in the summer but finds it “tolerably well” during the off-season. He is a Cancer and drives a vehicle that was built during Bill Clinton’s second term as a U.S. president. He “works out” constantly and can bench press less than 358 lbs. He jogs a mile in little over 12 minutes, attends Civil War re-enactments, makes over 550 k a year, haggles prices at yard sales, dresses “sharp” like an octogenarian, prefers earth tones, is fearful of giraffes and open spaces, showers in the morning, instinctively quotes Tolkien as a defense mechanism when surrounded by hipsters, thinks Rush Limbaugh is a field hockey reference, will sometimes eat french fries with a fork, knows a lot about Kurt Cobain thanks to Mark Craig, saw an episode of The Daily Show once, imagines himself to be good at tennis, and still thinks The Jerky Boys are funny. He likes snow, newspapers, Godzilla movies, doing laundry once a month, “Trekkies”, fairy stories, Mark Hamill’s voice, and being pale. Despises irony, Frank Zappa and sewage.
His interests include studying the Bible, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, Tom Servo, cassette tapes, buying coats at thrift stores, boots, the works of Coleman Francis, pretending in public to enjoy modern classical music, root beer, Charles Schulz, Steve Ditko, grunge, Bobby Buntrock, James Brussel, driving around in the middle of the night and looking at things, Silver Age Marvel comics, tug boats, Vincent D’Onofrio, Steven Drozd, Smokey Robinson, looking at James Joyce novels and knowing he’ll never read one, Lord Sepulchrave, Ray Schulman, Katharine Hepburn, using college entry level vocabulary and punctuation in text messages, Tales from Topographic Oceans, Golden Age DC comics, things that are “lemon” flavored, mountains and dreaming about one day living in “the mountains”, discussing religion, politics and inter-galactic space travel with co-workers, defending vegetarians, Mark Twain, The Temptations, E.R. Eddison, Frank Herbert, Agatha Christie, Herman Melville, Babe Ruth, The Heartbeats, Wynton Marsalis, turtles, butter pecan ice cream, Denzel Washington, traditional Christmas carols, wandering in the woods with the hope that he’ll stumble upon Tom Bombadil’s house, loitering in libraries and used book stores on rainy days, riding a bicycle with no hands and occasionally falling in front of hundreds of people, avoiding sporting events, mainstream country music concerts, college campuses, convention centers, gyms, the jersey shore, carnivals, keggers, and roller coasters like the plague, quietly judging people who watch American Idol, talking to animals, Sly and the Family Stone, meteorology, trying to figure out how a raven is like a writing desk, imagining Larks’ Tongues in Aspic was recorded on another planet, The Flamingos, J. Edgar Hoover, air conditioners, Dolores O’riordan, Looney Tunes, C.S.Lewis, Ernest Shepard, T-shirts, blueberry juice, flannel, Wayne Mombleau, Richard Williams, mangoes, Jack Kirby, Art critics, commas, The Orioles, Charlotte Bronte, fish tanks, garlic bread, Jimmy Stewart, The Three Investigators, Matt Salinger, Disney’s Nine Old Men, Firefly, writing (or thinking about writing) poetry, science fiction stories, false mythologies, false biographies, music, and generally doing things that require total solitude.
Pat McGowan lives happily in scenic southern New Jersey with his wife Jen, his brother (and fellow bandmate) Dan, Dan’s girlfriend and Tea Club cover artist Kendra, part-time “roadie” and fellow full-time Firefly fan Keanan, 2 cats, and a guinea pig named “Pudd’nhead Wilson”. Their house is poorly built, drafty, nearly a hundred years old and not haunted.
Currently listening to: ”The Century of Self” by …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead
Currently reading: ”Iron John” by Robert Bly
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