My first band was called Nubert Circus, a very embarrassing, dumb name. It means nothing. We were kind of grunge. I would say we were more funny punk, a lot of songs about food and stuff like that.

I used to have a musical group with a girlfriend called The Thunderclouds. It was like a Beach Boys cover band. And we would just figure out Beach Boy songs - break 'em into two-part harmonies. And, you know, we played a couple of shows around Olympia. It was very fun.

I need some time to write songs and work on my thing, but I'm just living my life and doing family stuff and letting inspiration come when it comes. But I also don't feel a desperate need to keep pushing myself into people's faces to stay cool and relevant.

I grew up without religion, but my parents have always been somewhat mystical about nature: The mountain is looking at us, stuff like that.

I consume the news daily. I'm not avoiding it.

There are a lot of names on the credits of 'The Glow Pt. 2,' but most of those people are just on one half of one song or something.

I reach out. I ask for help. I tell my story.

I like a bass drum. A big one.

It even feels absurd to be writing or singing a song at all - in the context of actual death, being alive feels absurd.

A weird side effect of being in close proximity to death is an urgency.

I don't want to return to places and sing the same songs a second time.

I am not satisfied with the ending of 'Mount Eerie' the album, so maybe by calling myself that, I am attempting to elaborate on the ending.

I'm actually not fussy. I enjoy getting into it and talking about anything, really. It feels good.

Profound thoughts and profound experiences get revealed to be tricks that we play on ourselves, and poetry gets revealed to be just, like, some dumb words that somebody put in an interesting order.

I can't bring myself to release an instrumental album because I feel like I want some meat on the bone. Something to chew on, lyrically and content-wise.

I'm pretty open.

I love things like the Criterion Collection DVDs. I think those are really well done. I like how far you can push the deluxe-ness of things like that.

Every tour is different. Sometimes I'll get a band together and sometimes it's just me.

I think that as a kid I was pretty drawn to melodrama.

After I made 'A Crow Looked at Me,' I remember people saying things to me like, 'You've made a beautiful tribute to Genevieve.' And I felt like, no! No no no, I haven't. I made a tribute to my own destruction and desolation. This is not a portrait of her. That's not who she was. She wasn't just a person who died.

I like the experience being in the audience and being overwhelmed by sound, like thick, oppressive loud sound and distortion.

I want to not be associated with death or cancer, I don't want that life.

I just play under the name Mt. Eerie. I started doing that in 2003 and I've pretty much been doing that since then.

It's a beautiful idea to focus on how everything is temporary and always in flux. It may feel bad now, but it will feel good later, and vice versa. To write about those things brings this satisfying feeling as a creative person.