All the books on my shelves, when I would go to them to look for help with my anguish, they all just seemed so crass. They didn't get it. Those books don't understand. Nobody understands. The universe, nobody understands my agony, or my questioning, and it's this shift in what in the world around us could possibly be meaningful or helpful.

For some reason focusing on destruction and mortality is more poetically exciting to me than hope and love.

I am still not taking my "career" in music for granted. It is constantly surprising that it works. Generally my thinking about the future has this assumption of an impending apocalypse.

When I read War and Peace in Norway, really far away from humanity for a long time, it was such an amazing, affirming blast of "humanity" in all forms. It totally cracked my mind-nut open and rainbows shot out. I loved humanity and being alive, rather than wanting to bury my head in the snow.

Whenever I get a tweet that's trying to promote a thing someone cares about, I'm like, "how annoying!"

When someone close to you dies, the line is shifted really drastically about what is meaningful and what isn't.

It's nice to have a band that can adapt to whatever show we're in, so we can play on a big stage or a house show.