ericprincessdragon

Tag: life

  • My Opinions

    My Opinions began with lyrics written around February 2022. I don’t remember a specific incident that inspired them – the inspiration just seemed to be all around me. The earliest recording was an acapella voice memo I made while driving in the rain, awkwardly hunting for a melody with the lyrics in my mind. By mid-March the melodies were mostly worked out but I’d only written about half the song. It wasn’t until late 2023 during a song-a-week challenge that I finally finished it.

    Revisiting it now while writing this entry I went back and listened to those early demos. The earliest full version had this bouncy, upbeat fingerpicking feel – faster, more driving, more attitude. At some point I settled into something more laid-back and lost that edge. Listening back I think I prefer the earlier version. I might go back to it.

    This is a satirical song. The narrator is someone whose personal identity is so intertwined with their opinions that they can’t separate the two – and yet they have no real awareness of where those opinions came from in the first place.

    I used to think I was writing songs like this to point a finger at what I saw wrong in the world around me. But I think it’s more honest to say that these songs are cautionary notes to myself. I’ll take on a character, point outward, but really I’m processing something I recognize in myself. A frustration, a dissatisfaction, a tendency I want to keep in check.

    In this case I am writing about somebody whose opinions have gotten away from them – yet I am beaming with opinions about having opinions while I do it.

    An opinion isn’t a preference and it isn’t a fact. It’s a subjective hypothesis about a matter, based on the best information I have – with ignorance, limitations and blind spots built in. We are limited creatures. Limited by our senses, by the information available to us, by our ability to understand that information, by time and space. There is only so much you can learn in one lifetime. I believe there is vastly more that we will never know than anything we could possibly learn.

    How could I possibly take my opinions so seriously? What troubles me isn’t that we have opinions. It’s when the opinions become our identities. When disagreeing with someone’s view feels like an attack on who they are. At that point the opinion can no longer be examined – it has to be defended.

    My opinion is not my identity. I don’t put much stock in the idea of a fixed personal identity in the first place – but that’s a whole other opinion to dissect.

    I believe that many of our strongly held opinions weren’t arrived at through any deep process of critical thought. They were inherited, learned, absorbed. We heard something, it fit with what we already believed, we adopted it, forgot we adopted it, and now it’s ours. People will fight over a difference in opinion. They will hurt people. They will hurt themselves. People have killed over a different opinion. And a lot of those opinions, if you trace them back far enough, came from somewhere they can’t even identify.

    I’m not exempt. My opinions are suspect too – all of them, including everything I just said.

    My Opinions

    Where do we go when we die
    And more importantly
    When we die
    Where do our opinions go
    I hope that they live on and on
    In the hearts of those whom we had the chance
    To get up on our soapbox
    And mouth off to

    Please tell me
    Tell me that it’s okay
    To stay here holding on to
    These words in mind for all time
    I call my opinions

    In my home the news plays day and night
    And it shows me just exactly what the world is like
    The newsmen speak so plain and truthfully
    So you know it don’t surprise me
    That when they talk they always seem to speak
    My opinions
    My opinions

    Where oh where do we come from
    And more importantly
    Where do these opinions that I call my own come from
    I don’t know I may never know
    But what I do know Is that I seem to think much better than
    A lot of other people

    Please don’t tell me
    You’ve got it figured out
    When words fall out your mouth
    Are silly words
    That differ from my own
    My opinions
    My opinions

  • Werns

    Werns

    I wrote the first verse of this song in January 2024. Just as the song suggests, I was chilling at the beach watching my dogs dig. I can picture it vividly – sitting on Battle Rock Beach on a beautiful January afternoon, the dogs were digging and just making me laugh. I was filled with joy as I am in the simple moments with them. I think I wrote down the first few lines just as they are, and within a few days I started singing and playing this funky guitar melody to those words. The original demo was me just working out the melody with no more than four lines. Originally I had an extended melody for the intro and ended up keeping a compressed version of it for the demo I recorded. From there I didn’t develop the idea at all until January 2026, despite the song making it to several lists of “need to finish” song ideas and several rounds of song-a-week groups.

    This was a classic example of an idea that began without a premise – just a moment in time. As simple as the moment was and as simply as I wrote it down, I didn’t have a vision for the song beyond just describing that experience. I’ve lived half of my legal adult life with my dogs. They are such a major part of my life, as close to me as any human. Returning to develop this idea, I decided to dig into one of the most astonishing facts about the relationship between humans and canines: the sheer timescale.

    Far from Chihuahuas, we relied on them for protection and warmth, for aid in hunting and tracking, for safety. I believe there is something quintessentially human about this relationship – our ancestors chose each other and evolved together. Dogs have been on every continent, they’ve been in space, they’ve been present in every civilization. And now here we are. We call them man’s best friend, our closest and longest standing evolved companions. I feel this when I’m with my dogs. I feel it when I’m not thinking about it, and when I do think about it sometimes I feel a rush of love and honor. I feel so human and so connected to our history, our ancestors. I cherish my dogs. We carry them to the day they pass and carry them with us until our time comes. As we wander the beaches and forests of Oregon, and beyond – they live the majority of their days in the wild and spend little time behind fences, collar and leash. Often on our excursions we don’t see another human. Like our ancestors wandering together side by side.

    This song became a tribute not just to my dogs who I adore, but a statement on the humility I feel in their presence – acknowledging our ancient past together.

    P.S. The title is just one of dozens of silly names I’ve arrived at to call my dogs.

    “Werns”
    Chilling at the beach
    Watching my dogs digging
    A face shaped hole then they dive right in
    They got me laughing

    They give me a goofy sandy look
    Their tails wag in the breeze
    The bond we share is an ancient one
    We’ve been together so long

    Before we named our Gods
    We had dogs
    Before we wrote, before we spoke
    Any language known today

    They kept us safe out on the hunt
    They kept us warm in the cave
    We shared our food and buried their dead
    They’ve been family for so long

    Before we planted seeds
    Before we built cities
    From the cave to outer space
    We’ve come a long way together

    Chilling at the beach
    Watching my dogs digging
    The bond we share is an ancient one
    Tens of thousands of years long

  • Only The Lucky Grow Old

    Only The Lucky Grow Old

    This song was written during the first week of the fall 2025 songwriting group. I was already making progress on another song when this one came to me very quickly one night. I remember having a long day and getting very sick from some sort of caffeinated beverage in the evening. I was running sound at our local venue and sitting at the bar after the show when I had a conversation with an older man – he was at least twice my age. He said jokingly at some point, “I hope I stay young forever.”

    In that moment I felt three things at once: the awareness of my own youth sitting there next to him – I was just 33 years old. Then the awareness of friends who didn’t live much longer than I have, or barely made it past 33. Then the awareness that he was once my age and lived many more years that for me are probable at best, not guaranteed. I felt almost envious in that moment, realizing that I may have the gift of youth in his eyes, but he had the gift of time – time that some friends did not have, and I may not have. With all of this in mind, I replied, “Only the lucky grow old.” As soon as the phrase came to my mind and I spoke those words, I had this feeling: “That’s a good line!”

    After we wrapped up that conversation, I made my way home and the closer I got to the house, the more the caffeine-induced headache intensified. During that short drive, the melody and lines just started coming to me one after the other, and I sang them into my phone as I climbed up the hill. As soon as I got into the house and fed the dogs and cats, I retreated to my room where I shut the door and shut off all the lights. With this headache pounding, I sat down and worked out the entire song in the dark, line by line, working towards the line that inspired the whole thing.

    I was writing about all the things that were weighing heavy on my mind at that time: struggling financially, in serious debt, drowning under the weight of many responsibilities, while also looking at losing essential benefits, and all the while reflecting on the young friends who have lost everything and my own feelings of guilt and regret. The song ended up taking an ironic position – we are the lucky ones who are still here, still breathing, still going, growing older – yet we’re here spending our precious luck stressing about survival.

    After finishing the last lines, I laid down and slept for 10 hours.


    One more letter
    Written halfway
    Crumbled up
    Thrown away
    Just a taste to tease the heart ache

    If there’s a cure
    I ain’t gonna find it
    I never called back
    My therapist
    When they canceled twice
    I tossed their card away

    Come new years I won’t be insured
    Word came down from the billionaires
    They won’t keep floating a broke down bum like me
    When I shoulda been working I was on the road
    I came home when I had nowhere else to go
    I’ve gone broke again seeing how far I could bend

    That little squiggle scratched on the line
    On paper with the land and the man
    My name is not my name but if I don’t pay
    They could take it all away
    Take it all away

    I miss the simple days
    I miss sleeping on the side of the road
    I miss having no home no car no guitars no phone

    If I could go back
    I’d gather up the letters I tossed
    Package them and send em to the friends I’ve lost
    I had one chance and I’ve never been bold
    Only the lucky grow old

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    One last thing I would like to share about this song is a recording from my good friend Liam Warden, who sent me a piano and vocal rendition just days after I first recorded it and sent it to him. I prefer his version to my own, and it made me appreciate the song so much more.

  • Perfect Time

    I arrived in Hobart in perfect time on March 20th. I was picked up at the airport by my new friend Dave, the kiwi I had met on Oahu. He took me to his home in Geilston Bay, the address of which is on my Tasmanian ID (valid till 2029). I arrived in the late evening so he got me set up in the guest space and showed me out to a space in the backyard where he kept his music gear. There he left me with the invite to play his drums, basses and acoustic guitar.

    I grabbed the guitar and the very first thing I started playing was this song. Perfect Time started with the intro – the melody and words came all at once:

    You can’t miss when you don’t aim
    Sit still and take it all in

    Guts tame our wounded hearts
    Press our heads to the grumbles

    Just like that I was off with the chord change, and the song dropping into the main section. The lines continued to come to me:

    There’s a song in the distance
    I can’t call the tune
    But I’ll sing what I hear and you can harmonize

    And it continued:

    We may never catch up to the tune
    We may be gone too soon
    But we care not for the future
    Here in perfect time

    All of this came all at once as soon as I touched the guitar. This would become the theme for my arrival on the island in the days to come.

    Around that time, I had been considering that acceptance is essential if I ever wish to be in accordance with reality. Anything and everything that occurs in our universe, for better and for worse, is “meant to be.” All the triumph and tragedy that brings about hope and joy, suffering and despair, is the only law and order in an otherwise chaotic existence.

    I spend plenty of time thinking about the past. Sometimes I’ll allow my mind to trail off to thoughts of what could’ve been – what I could’ve said, what I could’ve done differently, if I’d just kept walking down that road or turned my back on something before it was too late. These thoughts are not helpful, generally speaking. But I was coming back to this idea that I must accept that everything happens in perfect time. Although I could imagine things that could’ve been done to change the course of reality, the fact that something occurred simply means that was the only way it could’ve been. To deny that, to fight it, to try and think my way out of it or around it, would be to break from reality.

    It’s easy to say in moments of hope and optimism that everything happens in perfect time. It’s harder to say when tragedy strikes, when a dear friend is lost too soon, in moments where it sinks in that every living thing must die, recognizing that someday I will have to say farewell to all things.

    I spend so much time trying to make sense of the past, anticipating and predicting the future, yet the only thing that really matters, the only thing that exists, is right now. Right now is not a problem to be solved, only an experience to be had. In the clearest moments, we can settle into that presence, and all fear and anxiety and worry and dread will wash away.

    I had the first chunk of the song for some time, and I played around with it throughout the time I spent on my first trip to Tasmania. But I didn’t end up finishing the song until later in the year when I was back home during one of the song-a-week challenges.

    One cliché says it all: life is full of surprises.
    Don’t know how much time we got
    How many sunrises
    We may never see another moon
    We may be gone too soon
    But we care not for the future
    Here in perfect time

    The song is really quite simple in its scope. My mind goes off into mortality. There’s a layer of melancholy and melancholic contemplation lining the core of my being, rarely without presence in my thoughts. But this song is meant to be a declaration of acceptance – acceptance of our own mortality, an acceptance and letting go of all worry for a future that is not guaranteed, that does not exist, and on some fundamental level, a future that does not concern us.

    I have seen people express this idea that 1,000 years may pass, 10,000 or 100,000 years may pass, eventually everyone we knew, everything we knew, every trace and memory of us may be gone – and therefore, what is the point? But the events of this universe 100,000 years from now are even more meaningless than we could ever be, because we exist. We are here now, and in that, life has great meaning.

    The future is not guaranteed. We understand that the universe will go on, but the future for us, for humanity, for our ancestors, is not guaranteed. What is guaranteed is this present moment, so long as we are here. We exist, and here we shall remain – in perfect time.