It seems like the older I get, the more unreal the world becomes.

I'll always be a boulevardier. I have an extreme reverence and romantic longing for all that is decrepit and fatalistic.

My love of maple syrup. I've been known to knock back a can over a couple days: A swig here, a swig there, and next thing you know it's gone. It's a habit I have to stave off. I don't want to lose all my teeth.

My mother's songs are really turning out to be masterpieces. I have inherited this incredible legacy and am so fortunate to bathe in her sensibilities. It is tinged with tragedy. I'd much rather she was here in person, but there is still a positive force to come out of her death and that is having the gift of music that she gave.

I like to make the mundane fabulous whenever I can.

One of the main destructive forces within our family has been these runaway egos. I think if you look at any show business family, that struggle exists.

I'm hyper light-sensitive and must sleep in the equivalent of a sealed tomb.