jeff troiano - ProfilesArchive

About Me

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Currently holed up in San Francisco's Mission District. Back from a six-year, self-imposed exile, and things are different now, holding my daughter's hand as I criss-cross these foggy avenues. She's so much like me, digging the coffee houses, looking into people's faces, drawing stars and other celestial bodies -- but I'm feeling just a bit guilty since she's the only kid in Muddy's on Valencia. The place sort of mellows in a tribute to a child unfazed by the world that ravaged them. My Petaluma songs ring differently here too, but in a good way. Maybe I've created enough distance to allow them to stand on their own two feet. So many new words out there yet I can't seem to funnel 20 of them into a song. My brow furrowed at the thought of this year's losses, though it's always been like this. Life. Every day is a different dance, not all of them jigs. Just pay attention -- I think that's what it's all about.
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My Interests

Music:

Member Since: 20/06/2007
Band Members: Me, hoping that someday, when the planets align, there will be someone else.

Influences: Coffee, Yucatecan restaurants, Garcia Marquez with his ghosts and bags of bones, Junot Diaz, City Lights, Pacific Ave. in Santa Cruz, before the quake, when people had names like Bliss and Sunshine and White Feather, tripping in the hills by the university, the Ramones, getting crushed in the front row at the Catalyst, sweating, my arms shielding my date, X, Exene snapping at me during an interview, Wilco, greeting Tweedy out in front of Slim's, dogs, even the one that attacked me as a kid, Don Quixote, sleeping in a field beside the train station in Barcelona, Las Ramblas, the scent of paella, Houston, my brothers, who taught me about respect, the Texas Hill Country, swimming in the river in Llano, TX by the railroad hotel, then sliding back to the Pacific Coast, standing on the railroad trestle above the boardwalk, waiting for the fog to burn off, and stones, everywhere, throwing at anything, loving every minute. But before all of that, my grandfather, after my grandmother died, alone but not complaining, reading, laughing, watching baseball, the roses growing, fast food and cigars, adoring us. And a bit later, 15 years old, meeting Melissa, Melinda, Jill and Julie on the Village Green, sirens on bikes, all smiles and songs, crashing my ship on their summer stones, gratefully. My mom and my dad, slaving their asses off for us.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDwk6sH5_6g

Sounds Like: Neil Young, if he couldn't write very well, played guitar with his hands wrapped in thick bandages, and had been greatly influenced by his own songs.

Record Label: Yeah, Right

My Blog

In the clearing

All of this happens for reasons, they say. I'm not one to argue. I navigate through the wreckage, steering clear of smoldering vehicles, smoke and rubble as far as I can see. I empathize, I swear, but...
Posted by on Mon, 18 Aug 2008 21:50:00 GMT

Influence

Comes at you from every direction. What's in the wind? The fog, the smoke, the night, the blinding sunlight. All depends on when you can turn this whole thing off and sit with pen and paper and captur...
Posted by on Fri, 11 Jul 2008 12:19:00 GMT

Hummingbirds

I've learned that many people are not accustomed to seeing wildlife. Just this morning, Julie, my country girl, exclaimed, "Look!" as a fawn paraded outside my kitchen window. I said, "If you see the ...
Posted by on Fri, 20 Jun 2008 01:25:00 GMT

Electrical Storm

It seems the electrical storm has no thought of leaving. I hunker down, putting a positive spin on the rain that it brings, how the garden will be wonderful, the creeks full, the birds clean and refre...
Posted by on Tue, 01 Apr 2008 10:43:00 GMT

Happiness

When happiness finally happens, it may not be easily recognizable. Being careful what I've wished for, I've wished for it incessantly, never completely believing it to be real. Like in dreams when she...
Posted by on Fri, 25 Jan 2008 21:44:00 GMT

Wrestling Class

Lying flat on my back in the yard late this afternoon, the stratus clouds cruise by as if on a highway from the coast, slamming into the Sonoma hills, and then collecting, like marshmallows melting at...
Posted by on Wed, 10 Oct 2007 19:53:00 GMT

Miracle

..>..> ..> Yesterday afternoon, sun sinking, a calm settles on my lawn. I look at my car and decide it needs to be washed. It sits beneath the pines, not far from the edge of this country lane, ab...
Posted by on Wed, 19 Sep 2007 14:59:00 GMT

Under Sea

You navigate a deep dark ocean that is littered with fishing line, sunken ships, and ink-smeared notes that were never retrieved. Rusty hooks dangle near your swollen eyes, among a thousand dangers. Y...
Posted by on Sun, 09 Sep 2007 08:36:00 GMT

Acorns

The oak leaves are changing color, the acorns dropping, sadly, end of their line, end of our summer. But my daughter scrambles merrily, collecting the nuts like golden coins, stuffing her pockets to o...
Posted by on Fri, 07 Sep 2007 12:52:00 GMT

Blue Winged

It seems I'm more aware of birds these days. It started with the owls, last fall, when the winds swirled, the skies darkened, and it was up to me, like Dorothy, to drag the cows home, button the barn,...
Posted by on Sat, 01 Sep 2007 19:53:00 GMT