Live Rehearsal – March 15th 2012
Toronto, Canada

“Hero (Regina Spektor Cover)”
with
Joel Joseph on piano
Oscar Dominguez on cajón

 

MEDLEY
Medley by CarmelaAntonio

Live Rehearsal with Joel Joseph on piano.

Recorded straight from the floor with my iPhone.  The future is now…….(i’m scared..j/k)

I played The Drake Underground again last night for Elvis Monday.  Thank you to William New for having us again!  It’s always a blast!!

Kudos to the dope-ass Torontonians that came through on a mild, winter, Monday night!!  God bless you for not reserving life for the weekend!!  I especially want to send out a MAJOR shout out to my dear friend, Dustin P (aka DJ Mensa) and his girl Jill Garcia for reaching!  I have not hung out with this guy since 2008, and dude, that is just NOT okay!! lol

And last, but especially not the least, a HUGE shout out goes out to the mystery blogger that wrote a wonderful write-up about my performance last night.  He/she goes by The Lonely Vagabond.  Whoever you are, THANK YOU!  You just made my day!

check it out here..

http://lonelyvagabond.com/2012/01/24/carmela-antonio-the-drake/

Keep your eyes peeled… I’ll be surfing and swagging again soon! (is that still a thing?? surf and swag??)

 

Love,

Carmela

 

 

 

 

 

How I long to be small again

Small enough

To be cradled in his arms again

To be nestled

Perfectly,

On his lap.

 

To feel a sense of comfort,

Clarity.

That I fit in

Perfectly

With someone

 

Someone that means

The world to me,

And I, him.

 

Someone who adored

My quirks,

My stubbornness,

My faults,

And all in all–my greatness.

My value.

 

To run unbridledly,

To face a new day

With a feeling of wholeness.

 

Without him,

I live with him

In my entirety,

And in my whole essence.

Always and perhaps

Forever.

But once and again

I am reminded…..

 

How I long to be small again….

 

…just to be small again.

The more I learn about him, the cooler he gets.

I love you and miss you so, so, so much Tatay.

Thank you Noel for a wonderful article about my granddad.  You’re a wonderful human being for doing so.

Remembering Napoleon Dilag, Esq (March 13th 1932 – Dec 14th 2011)

via

http://ylbnoel.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/napoleon-dilag-esq-march-13th-1932-dec-14th-2011/

I was a lonely child.  Sometimes, somewhere, that child still is.  I couldn’t quite keep up with my brothers, but strangely, my granddad knew I didn’t have to.  He never worried about me.  And I liked that.  He didn’t get me, but he genuinely liked me.  I adored having him around.  Maybe because he was always working, that when he was home I knew it was special.  He had such a presence.   I was almost scared of him.  But then he’d be all mush and constantly reminded me, that I was, after all, the most beautiful and I was his favourite (sorry guys!).  Whenever I’d cry, he’d give me this look and I knew, almost immediately, that I was being ridiculous and that I needed to stop.   And now I’m sure if he saw me, how I long to have him give me that look again.  He did everything with a purpose.  He taught me to be strong, determined, and passionate.  And to be number 1! And maybe because, as a child he didn’t have very much, that he did everything as if he was doing it for the last time.  Without saying it, he taught me that if you want something, you go and get it.  And it doesn’t matter how long it takes you to get there—you make sure you get there!  You can’t have a name like Napoleon and not live up to it!

I don’t know why, but I liked his shoes.  I used to walk around in them—especially the cowboy boots.  I still remember how they feel on my feet—10 sizes too big, really dusty and I’m sure there might have been a spider in there somewhere.  But I loved it.  One of my favourite past times as a kid was putting on his shoes, and I’d wave my arms around (because I couldn’t really walk in them), singing “I’ve got the powaahh!!” (I was a 90’s wild child)  He was something else, my granddad.  He had a certain spark that I had never seen on anyone else I’ve ever met.  He was little, but he was a shark.  He was a fighter.  He fought his way through law school, fought his way to my grandmother’s heart, and fought to raise eight children—and somewhere along the way, a few stray, neighbouring, lost souls, even though they didn’t have very much.  You’d never know it off the bat, but he had a big heart.  And he was loved.  We had gone to numerous fancy restaurants as a giant clan, and never paid a dime!  Family vacations, the whole nine yards!  And that’s when I learned about the power of networking.  My granddad did not just have friends; he had friends in high places!

 

He was a no-nonsense kind of guy.  He was simple like that.  If he told you something, he meant it.  He was passionate in everything he did (even eating—he LOVED food!), and I don’t even think he was aware of it, which makes it that much cooler.  I remember one morning, he was getting ready for work and the phone rang.  He had just gotten out of the shower and had nothing more than a towel around his waist.  I was too young to understand what and why he had to attend to the phone call so urgently.  I just carried on with my breakfast.  He had a way of speaking, my granddad.  His voice roared.  It kind of frightened me, but it was so powerful.  He was speaking fervently on the phone.  His voice went from audible to amplified.  And then, the hand gestures started.  He got louder and more domineering.  His arms flailed about, and the next thing I knew, my grandma had dropped what she was doing and went rushing to him, and I got nervous for a moment.  I didn’t know what was going on!  My granddad was screaming on the phone about God-knows-what, then my grandma went running over to him… I thought some crazy shit was about to go down!  And then, I realized why she was running.  His towel, which was perfectly nestled around his waist, had fallen to the ground.  And as passionate as he was, he still carried on arguing with the jackass on the other line, in the middle of the living room, butt-naked.   And my grandma, by his side, struggling to keep his privates private.  He was a no-nonsense kind of guy.  And he was simple like that.

 

I loved him so much.  I wish I told him more.  I spent a lot of time just listening to what he was doing.  I’d be in the other room, and he’d be at his desk typing away at his ancient typewriter.  And I loved the sound of it.  I loved the sound of his permanent markers against his yellow notepad.  I especially loved listening to him brush his teeth.   It was so strategic.  I knew when the dentures were about to come out.  And if he knew I was watching, he’d wink and smile at me, and then he’d whistle.  And then he’d go, “’Bet you can’t do that!”  And then he’d reach for the Listerine, and would be at it for another 10 minutes! (He was really, really clean) Even his gargling sounded fascinating.  It reminded me of simpler days when being around my grandparents meant I was safe.  I was home.

And I couldn’t dream of being anywhere else.  My parents would fight me to leave and I just couldn’t.  I just couldn’t.  One time, I actually hid from my dad.  Everybody was worried-sick, but it was Sunday and I really wanted to watch a TV movie with my grandparents before bed.   I liked sleeping in their bed.  Their pillows were hard as fuck, but the slumber was divine. Tatay would spoon Nanay, and then Nanay would spoon me.  And if you can believe it, they still let me do that at 25!

 

I keep having this image of him laughing with me, telling jokes.  And the very idea that I wouldn’t be able to do that anymore really hurts.  I still feel like this whole thing is just a bad dream, and that any minute now, I’m going to wake up.  And I’m going to call him, and he’d say something to make me laugh.  I would give anything to wake up right now.  Just wake up…

 

This is probably the worst I’ve ever felt.  I’ve been sad.  I’ve been lonely.  I’ve been frustrated.  I’ve been angry.  I’ve been all sorts of negative in my short life, but nothing compares to this.  No one will ever love me the way my granddad did.  Even in his incoherent state, he kept calling everyone else “Aysa” (my nickname).    He loved all of us enormously, but there is a special place in his heart for me; and I, him.  He was a pack rat.  He held on to everything.

If you ever see his office, it is filled with old legal files and books, and old newspapers and his old office supplies, like his old, green typewriter, his old, green stapler,

his stapler remover, and his hole puncher, even his old, yellow, rubber eraser, which has now mutated into a sticky, brown cube.  They all are still so clear and crisp in my memory, that it feels like no time has passed since my childhood.   And he worked under those conditions.  Clutter engulfed his workspace, but yet, he still managed to know exactly where everything was.  And in the midst of this “organized chaos,” is an old poster of my very first EP Release Party back in 2008.  I was part of his clutter.  And I love that I was.  Anytime we would talk on the phone or Skype during the time his health started to wane, he insisted that I don’t say “goodbye,” but say  “see you later” instead.

I spent his last days with him at the hospital.  It was the best $1600 I’ve ever spent.  To see him smile for the last time, even though he wasn’t fully there anymore, was both melancholic and romantic at the same time.  I’m so grateful for the chance to do so. Before I left for the airport, I was trying to say goodbye—or “see you later,” rather.   And just when we thought he didn’t have any more energy to give you a proper grip, he held on to my hand and he wouldn’t let me go.  And I couldn’t let him go.  I don’t want to let him go.

And this is probably the main reason why everyone else in my life disappoints me.  He loved me so much—so much more than words can say.  In my grandfather’s eyes, I was a dime.  I was a perfect ten.  I never asked him for anything.  He didn’t have to say anything.  I just knew I was his.  He never showered me with lavish gifts or gave me ridiculous amounts of money.  He could have, but he knew, and I knew, that I didn’t need any of that.  He knew that if I wanted anything I would go and get it anyway.  To him, I was priceless.  I was precious.  I was a gem.  And no one else in the world has ever made me feel that way.  I remember being 14, and I just missed my grandparents so much and hated my family life, I sent him a text saying, “I’m sad.”  And within seconds, he was calling me on the phone.  He really, really loved me.  He really did.  And I learned so much from him.  I learned to be focused and passionate because of him.   I learned to cut through the noise and keep going because of him.  I learned how to share and be generous.  I learned to be gracious.  I learned the value of hard work.  I learned how to fight for what I believed in, even if I came out of it empty handed.  I learned the value of living, of believing in myself; of being honest and unapologetic; and of knowing that after all is said and done, after all the bullshit, after all the pain and all the hurt, love is everything it is cracked up to be.  Love is all there is—it’s all you need.  I learned how to love.  He is the best man I know and no one is ever going to live up to that.  No one else can compare.  Ever.   It would take a very special person to do so because he has some big boots to fill.

I think it’s a shame that my other cousins didn’t get to know him the way I know him—the way my brothers and I know him.  He was so much cooler than what he led on.  He helped so many people! He had a magnetic personality.  Some people probably found him odd, even his children, but that’s what I liked about him.  He and I are kindred spirits.  I made sense when I was around him.  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so strange.  Because everything that mattered to me, was inspired by what mattered to him, and why it mattered to him.  And somehow, no matter how awful life got, and how far apart we were, I knew in my heart of hearts that I would be okay… because I was his.

 

See you later Tatay… i love you and miss you so much!  We’ll have sushi again soon.

 

Hello all!

If you haven’t seen it yet, here it is…

PAPER DOLLS is featured on our NYFW Trip Video!  Thank you DANIEL PLENGE of MARC JACOBS INTL. for giving me this platform!!

Enjoy!

xo

Carmela

Watch THE MARC JACOBS EXPERIENCE here!

I needed to say this, and I needed to get it off my chest. There is an aggressive amount of pointless drivel that is circulating our television sets. One of which, I truly cannot stand — reality “talent” competitions. I don’t mind Dancing with the Stars, because I truly think that there is something fascinating with watching non-
dancers (and celebrities, at that) learn choreography and seeing them transform into pseudo-graceful swans. But this whole “American Top Talent” or “Canada’s Got Singers” or “Best Idol Factor” sub-culture has got to stop.

First of all, I get it… I want to clear this up before I go any further — it is a platform, yes. But I can’t help but feel like the producers of these shows are merely reaping the benefits of people’s naivety. This whole sub-culture has created a sense of urgency to get famous, and that dreams are made of that. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being famous. If people enjoy a certain “thing”, and they love it and it becomes an epidemic, there’s no stopping that. But I, for one, believe in the power of art. If you build it, and it comes from an honest place, they will come. And it doesn’t matter what platform you put it on. If you are an artist, you’re an artist. And no one can ever take that away from you, unless you let some hypebeast take advantage of your dreams. I fail to recognize if any of these shows could truly churn out any real, artistic credibility. Maybe I’m a little shortsighted by saying that, but I have yet to see anything really good come out of these shows. (With the exception of very few, maybe the first ever Idol winner, Kelly Clarkson — when it was completely untainted with reality show stigma. I can actually take her seriously. She has something to say.)

But really, who am I, but a simple city girl with somewhere to type her thoughts on. I just hate the idea of having someone’s talent in question for the sake of a television show.

It’s just a little something to think about. What are you really supporting?