Unintentional Hipster

I just like wearing women's jeans, not eating animal products and writing shit nobody cares about. It was an accident, I swear

Archive for the tag “london”

What I learned in Faro: The Kindness of Strangers and Peace

I have never, not in my whole life of (admittedly very limited) travels been somewhere as sleepy, gentle and, most notably, peaceful as Faro in my life. Faro has been my first stop in Portugal before I trek around the coast up to Lisbon and Porto (via some shiny beaches, of course) and initially, I wasn’t too sure if I really wanted to come here.

There is next to no tourist influence on this city, even though I have still only met one person in two days who actually speaks Portugese. A few guided tour officials roaming about the place trying to sell boat tours to the beach in the vastest multitude of languages I’ve ever seen before, but that’s really it.

I chose to come and spend two days here because I really wanted to relax somewhere and get my head put on straight. The last few weeks for me have been very tumultous and confusing, a lot of things have changed in a very small period of time for me since Madrid. I guess that”s what we travel for, to help find ourselves somewhere that we are completely lost.

The first thing I learned in Faro actually began at Gatwick Airport, at 1am, trying to find the shuttle from the South terminal to the North terminal. I became wildly lost in what I can only imagine was the staff carpark, looking for this terminal. I met a French girl who was also flying out to Faro. We chatted a little bit, she was a very sweet girl. We finally found our way there in the end and we sat out the front of the airport for about four hours, just chain smoking cigaretes.

We talked about travelling to learn (she was living in London to improve her English so she could work as a stewardess), crazy and intolerant people in the world and some absolute rubbish. But if you talk with a stranger for four straight hours in the freezing cold with nothing but a few packs of cigarettes, some rubbish is bound to come up. She offered me cake and coke (the drink!) and it was nice.

We got to Faro and her parents were picking her up from the airport. I was terribly confused, I had no idea how to get to the hostel from the airport (there were no signs for buses or trains or anything else of the matter). I met her parents, they didn’t speak a word of English  but they were very sweet and bought me orange juice. Then, they drove me to my hostel.

Faith in humanity: very much restored.

Then, after a good nine hours of wandering the terribly beautiful and wonderfully boring streets of Faro, I came back to the hostel and met the owners. We went out to have a look at buying a guitar for the hostel, then for some dinner and wine. Today, they took me for sandwiches and coffee. They are a wonderfully sweet couple and outrageously hospitable. I don’t have any other word to describe how hospitable they are except outrageous, they’ve taken great care of me in the last two days, even offering to help me find gigs in Faro.

Mixed about with a few people in the hostel who have been very generous with their wine and cigarettes, I learned my first lesson of Faro: the kindness of strangers is truly limitless, as long as you show the same kindness back. Without these people I had never met before in my life, I would have had the most miserable two days here. I mean yeah-the sunshine is beautiful but it can only cure so much loneliness in a man. Never again will I take for granted how good people can be. This city has made cynicism seem like a joke.

The next thing I learned was on my very, very long walk through a very, very small town. I had nothing with me, barre a bottle of water and a packet of cigarettes. Nothing but me, a seaside landscape, the sun beating down and my thoughts. It was incredibly peaceful.

There is no way to be in this town, I feel, and to not be instilled with a great sense of peace about the world. Yeah, there’s good. Yeah, there’s bad. But here in Faro, there’s just peace everywhere.

So I soaked it in, and I began to come to peace with something. Now, these little black bubbles of spiritual disconcertion that have been hanging over me have not been come to peace with. But, I became at peace with the fact that I have to face up to them and ‘pop’ these problems. To me, I think accepting and preparing yourself to deal with your problems is as important as dealing with them in itself.

So, I have come to peace with the fact that I have to make peace. And I’m ready to do that now. What’s that, remnant teenage angst of an immature 21 year old? You wanna fight?

Bring it on bro. I’m ready for ya.

Toby Fredkin


Get Big: Blog One-A little promise to myself

So, I’m pretty thin. Saying that I’m just a little bit on the slim-side would be a vast understatement, I’m heinously underweight. If you knew me back home in Sydney, you’d know this has been true for roughly twenty of my twenty-one years of my life (there was that year I dated a Korean girl whose mum used to cook me fried pork with white rice all the time and I took up drinking beer as a hobby…I miss being chubz =[ ) and I’m starting to feel a bit like, hey, this is enough of this hootananny. I am a man gosh darned it and I will represent myself as one!

…I’m sorry for the language, I wish none of you ever had to see me like that. But it’s gotten a little bit too far and my weight has never been anything I’ve made a really solid commitment to fixing. Right now, I’m just over 51kg (or pretty much directly on 8 stone for my UK frenz) and I don’t think being any height over 5ft at my age justifies that sort of weight.

Soooooo! I got some personal training sessions! Yay! I’m super stoked cause I’ve never had personal training before, even though my sessions with Kieran would give be DOMS so bad…once after a session of squats, I couldn’t sit down or stand still for 40 minutes. Just had to keep walking around swearing like a drunk and stoned, middle-aged Australian police officer whom, whilst on vacation to Byron Bay, has discovered the wonders of tetrahyrdocannibol with a talented pub covers band playing in the background. Yeah, it was THAT dramatic. The point is, I’m getting a diet plan worked out, getting solid measurements to see if I’m actually growing muscles and shiz. SO STOKED.

Turns out I currently have a 6.7% body fat percentage. Which is again, heinously low. Thankfully I’ve found out that a lot of my weight loss can probably be attributed to me trying to eat healthy! (Marley, you should read this bit). This is the first time I’ve ever lived out of home and realistically, the first time I’ve ever provided or cooked for myself. Call me spoilt or whatever, but fact of the matter is I didn’t really know what to do with myself. So I decided to try and call upon all the knowledge I’ve gained over the year of what is considered healthy eating styles (minus animals and what not..) and be a healthy little vegemite! So, all my pasta/bread/rice is wholemeal, I was cooking using low cholesterol oils and trying not to make everything too oily, lots of fresh vegetables and chili and garlic and what not. So, it turns out, my average diet is pretty much the perfect recommendation of a diet for somebody looking to slim up and slim up as quickly as possible.


So, the purpose of this little rant is that I’m starting another little sub-section of blog: Get Big! A little promise to myself that this time I’m going to dedicate myself hard to this goal and I’m going to gain weight. I’m not sure whether to set an obscene goal but I’d rather do that than undershoot. I plan on gaining an average of a kilo a week minimum for the next two months, at which point I’ll be roughly cracking 60 kilos. If I can keep that up for another 2 months, I’ll get to 68 (jeez, this sounds a bit like a Rebecca Black weight gain blog…) and then I’ll be the heaviest I’ve ever been.

I’ve never really tried to be all conformist and that shiz and try to confine myself to what society thinks is beautiful, like I should be my own person and love myself the way I am. I shouldn’t let the way I look affect my self esteem, right? Yeah, no. No offense to my previous self but I think that mindset is for overly fat or over skinny people who don’t wanna admit they got shit that needs sorting out. I look ridiculous. I don’t want to look ridiculous. I fucking want to be pretty. It’s not that weird of a thing in truth, when I think about it. I mean, judging other people for what they do with themselves is wrong.

Yeah, that girl might have lost her feminine edge when she shaved her head and dyed her eyebrows green, whilst wearing boots that a Nazi would call brutal but unless she worries about giving off a feminine image, what’s the issue?

I could make a counter statement about this for males but I think I’ve talked about myself enough.

So yeah, here’s my promise. I am going to get big. I’m going to feel pretty. Get the testosterone flowing and stop using words like pretty so much 🙂

Peace out everybody, hope you’re having a swell weekend!


p.s. My PT suggested drinking lots of Guinness to aid in the weight gain…my life right now>your life

Frenz! Or “Friends”, for those illiterate in internetspeak.

Let me start this blog by saying I’M NOT SICK ANYMORE YAY! Well, I am still sick but not as sick as I was before-I can do stuff now! Like eat! And breathe! And kind of smoke…the whole trying to go off of being vegan thing by getting ethical milk and eggs has taken a slightly poor turn..I’m fairly I’ve become lactose intolerant. But this is meant to be a nice blog, I’ll get back on track.

This is a blog about friends, family and home…

I have never, not at any single point in my life, been homesick until now. I have also never missed anything so debilitatingly as for it to make me confine myself to my room watching “Big Bang Theory” for hours on end because it reminds me of how they always used to watch it at home but I’d never join in. I guess that’s a bit specific but you get the idea. Please, don’t misunderstand me and think that I’m saying I haven’t missed anybody when they’ve gone away, I’m fairly sure I cried on a Netzer camp (a Jewish youth movement-they’re groovy you should all check them out! So vegetarian and happy!) when I was ten after just three days because I dreadfully missed my mummy. And if you’d ever met my mummy, you’d understand that’s not a sad thing at all to do. There’s no way for me to describe how nice she is without divulging my more instinctual Australian attributes, so I’ll just go ahead and say it. My mummy is fucking lovely.

I feel really stupid writing stuff like this sometimes but it’s really strange for me. I always hear about people saying, “you don’t really realise what you have until it’s gone.” And I’m like, well obviously duh. But scrap anything more than that really, really hot green-eyed girl I dated in the 11th grade for a few weeks and broke up with for next to no reason, I never really..got it I guess. And now here I am, today officially marks me being in London for two months. And I am just so enamored with everybody who I don’t have with me right now and it’s really, really painful. It’s really unfamiliar too. I just…I really miss everybody.

I feel like one of those really sad, little teenage boys/girls who has just had their heart broken. No matter where I go, what I do or what I try to occupy myself with they’re still not here. Every character on tv reminds me of my dysfunctionally functional family. Every animal reminds me of my ridiculous friends I’ve compared to memes. Every tree reminds me of that stupid little tree-hugger that won’t get out of my head (yeah, you know who you are. Asshole.). Every song makes me sad. I guess listening to Angus&Julia Stone to write a blog about people back home was a bad idea..I just miss ’em is all.

I miss knowing where the hot clubs are.
And I miss having those friends I could call who would always go there with me or take me to a house party instead of going there.

I miss knowing where to find specific types of food.
Especially having asian supermarkets closer than three train lines away (which in London isn’t that far, it’s just annoying).

I miss having my parents yell at me all the time for drinking way too often.
And now I hardly drink anymore because if it’s not upsetting them, what’s the point?

Guess you just really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone eh? But it’s still there…I could always just…well, pop back? I mean, I could just not get my visa replaced and trek about for the next six months and be home in time for Christmas.

But that’s not what I’m going to do. In the words that I taught my very own mother, I’m going to (and please excuse the swearing again) “harden the fuck up, cunt!” God I’m a bad influence. Whatever. Yeah, I’m going to harden up and remember-I saved up to be here. I’ve dreamed of coming here for so long. And yeah, I left to try and forget about unfulfilled life and love goals and then found myself chronically ill. It’s just cold you little pussy-you’ll get used to it. And yes, I feel like crying every day but can’t. It’s just a bit of homesickness-you’ve been lazy in making friends-go make out with more lesbians. Seriously, that will solve everything. Make out with way more lesbians.

Just…harden up bro. Remember, we always shine brightest through the black, not the blue.

Not going to bother editing this. It was more of a blog to myself than anybody else. To my friends at home-I really do miss you all dearly. I wish the poetry I was writing about you was good enough to be shared, but it’s not. Don’t let that make you think that I don’t love you, cause I do. I’m just a shitty platonic boyfriend, I show love with thoughtful gifts, not beautiful creations. You’ll deal.

The same way that I will.

I love you guys. Taken me a little while to really realise it, but I do.

Peace out,


Gotta mature before you can get immature (fo’ realz)

Hola everybody! How’s everybody been doing? I know it’s been a little while since I actually went out of my way and posted a blog, it’s not really any form of an apology cause I know nobody really minds but I got tonsilitis on Thursday and my body has been, in every sense of the word but the literal, shitting itself at this. So I was pretty tripped out and woozy for a little while-I’m still kinda trippy from the medication now but feeling good enough to write so I’m gonna write in the hope it straightens out a bit.

I will apologise in case stuff comes out sounding like absolute muck because well…yeah, kinda squiggly off the medication for it but let’s just deal with that problem when it’s already here?

I think the best part of having moved to London, pretty much all on my own, is almost having time alone forced upon myself. Now, I do have some friends here and they’re lovely but being as suddenly quiet as I’ve become (in person, not stoopid internetz), I spend most of my time alone. I used to spend quite a good deal of time at home alone as well, but I find myself behaving in very different ways here as opposed to home. Most of the time at home was spent listening to music and watching random shows online. Now, I’ve only been actually alone in London for two weeks now and I’ve found myself sitting in silence a lot more, thinking a lot more about what’s going on now and what was going on before, unfortunately uneducated on most matters that cross my mind. That’s really more my bad than anyone else’s, I’m the one who dropped out of a music-arts course after all :p

I was talking to Chris about this a bit last night and I’ve been thinking a lot, not about the finer moral and ethical issues disparaging people at the moment (because let’s face it, there are far, far more intelligent people out there struggling with it and I’m sure my two cents on the matter is a bit worthless[if not simply a restatement]) but just nice, little problems that are more of an annoyance than a huge hindrance. Wow, I’m going to change the music from 30 Seconds to Mars to something else, this writing is all sounding very dark..

Ah..Kings of Leon. Better.

Maturity! There we go, I finally got there. From when I was as young as I can remember, (and I’m sure similarly for most others out there) I’ve always wanted to be big and grown up. Now, I don’t think that ever had anything to do with wanting responsibility or power or money or any of that nonsense. I think I just wanted to be better than other people-I wanted to be the kid that didn’t laugh at the word “penis” during class…I wasn’t that kid but I definitely wanted to be. I don’t think that’s a maturity though-it’s a bloody funny word. Penis…hehe. But you get what I mean, I was always trying to be more adult about things, approach everything as maturely as was possible for me.

I started drinking pretty young. Not to rebel or be cool, that just seemed like an adult thing to do. I started smoking pretty young (although from what I understand, not young by English standards). I’m not sure why that was-I think it’s because I was drinking so often with people who did smoke…who knows. 5 days cigarette free at the moment! (In fairness, I’ve only been sick for 4 days so…shut up, a good thing is still a good thing even if the catalyst forced it!) I started trying to approach everything in my life from a far more adult perspective, from a mature point of view…I’m not really sure how to phrase it properly.

Anyways, now I find myself slightly confused. Two more weeks and I’m twenty-one years old. That’s completely insane. And all I want to do is be the kid that I never really let myself admit I was. And now, I really am that. I’m just lacking an appropriate sort of…set off for it. I know that the people I feel most comfortable around, friends wise, I behave like an absolute child. And I love it, I love just being able to be so much more care-free and nonchalant (am I using that right?) than I otherwise am. I show affection and disappointment like a little kid, I take offense and get over it like a small child… I don’t know why I can’t just be that way with everybody. Maybe I’m not mature enough to actually be immature? 

Penis…penis…PENIS… No, nothing. Hmmm.

I think I need to grow up a little bit more before I can just be comfortable to be how I actually wanna be I guess? Although knowing me, in a month I’ll be pissy over how immature I’ve become.

Shit, I’m immature as all hell now. These blogs are probably a testament to that. But they’re helping me become more comfortable with myself by sharing little bits of myself with you. And I know it sounds corny and it’s one of the few things that I have a genuine level of faith in, but I know I cannot be happy with anybody else until I actually become happy with myself. Until my own company pleases me, I don’t understand how it could please anybody else. I’m not going to give a load of rubbish over how I can’t love somebody else till I love myself-maybe I’ll love them more but there’s a heap of people out there I absolutely love and adore. Like I’d not love y’all just cause I’m a whiny little bitch hey?

I think I’ll move to Brighton…


Poetry, what happened to you bro?!

Just to clear things up really quickly: I’m not talking to poetry in general and being all like, “Hey poetry, you used to be cool man…Till the MAN got hold of you and discovered way too many words that rhyme with vagina and made too much emphasis on the colour of the skin of the girl singing dat poetry man…” No, I’m not talking to poetry in general-I’m talking to my own poetry!

And also, although this may have been better to write first although I’m not copying and pasting again-this mightn’t make sense at all if you haven’t read my other stuff. If you still don’t care-thank you, I love you and party on Garth.

So I said a few days ago (drunkenly) that I was going to post poems that I had been writing every day on here, just to try and share a little bit of razzamatazz and try to find new ways in which to express myself cause I was feeling like I simply didn’t have the means to do it any other way. Still sorta feel that way a little bit what whatever, not the point. I’ve still been writing every day-on here and in my little Nanushka journals but I have no more poetry in me to write. It’s obscene-considering the quality of what there was before that I’m already burnt out. It makes me a little bit sad, cause I was actually having a decent little bit of fun with it. It’s like with piano-although piano has been just fun as opposed to a good emotional outlet (see, with piano I can’t play it for shit but I feel like keyboard cat and with poetry I know how to use, at the very least, all the fundamentals of the language, whether or not my ability to put it together is satisfactory…well now I feel like dog…Image

(I know this is technically the wrong meme for it but OMFG LOOK IT THINKS IT’S A BUNNY HAWWWWWW)

A lot of what I reckon has happened is that I’ve simply run out of methods within poetry to express myself. I mean, how many poems can one person write about how they love the environment and animals or are heinously in love with a girl? Oh wait…that’s right…most every song made over the last 50 years. Ma bad.

Yeah. I’m not sure what really happened. Part of the reason for this is that I know I have friends that read this and I know that I have followers who I’ve no idea of who they actually are that write their own poetry and probably most certainly know actual poets (or talented lyricists-if anyone knows any of those too I’m down.) SOOOOO that means that I can ask for advice on who to read/what to listen to 🙂

This is me, Toby,  now asking of you to not only to trudge through this unforgivingly poorly structured blog even more than you already been, but to suggest possible methods of getting my chi (I know I’m using this word in the wrong concept, I’m not PC at all) back yo! I’m going to detox the SHIT out of my liver after my blood test on Friday cause whatever it is I’m sick with, I have abused this baby(my liver) to a point where it’s the Lindberg baby.

Yeah, that just happened. I just referenced my drinking to a tragedy involving a couple losing their baby. If we want to rewind and look at my last few months before I left Sydney, it’s really not that lacking in reason.

I am the Red Dragon (for those who know me shall fear yet love me).

Anywho, hope everyone’s week is going well! Nearly the weekend yayy! It’s my birthday soon too so that makes me a bit more chipper! Thinking about detoxing until the weekend of my birthday to smack shit up with Janine-no caffeine, no nicotine, no drugs (even though I don’t take them anyways) and no alcohol. At the least-no caffeine, no alcohol and less nicotine. Watchy’all think? ESPECIALLY TO YOU LIKE, RAW VEGANS WHO ARE FOLLOWING ME I KNOW WHO YOU ARE TEACH ME TO DETOX PLZ “__”

Lovez youse allz!
Toby Fredkin

Home, yet somewhere so far from it…

So, second day of having a job in London done! The job still isn’t really like a job cause we’re in very early training phases still. It’s mostly been just revision on what makes a good barback a good barback and then I remember my old job, where the training was pretty much, “This goes here, that goes there. Got it? Sweet. Now smmmmile!” And some other random yellings of a grumpy Englishman…But it feels good to be employed yet routine again.

So my friends/anybody else who has read the normal blogs will probably know I’ve not been in the healthiest state lately and I’m struggling to pinpoint exactly whether it’s a purely physical thing or a bit of a mental thing as well dragging me down. I’m running crazy low on energy and motivation and I feel like the people I’ve just started working with sorta look at me like a funny, mute geek. The fact that whilst we were waiting to start this morning, instead of chatting to a French girl sat next to me I took a Joseph Heller novel out of my bag and read. Yeah, that actually happened.

I’m not really sure what it is and I had an interesting thought. So there were a few different reasons that I left Sydney to move to London and I will be perfectly up-front and honest with all of you right now: one of the least pertinent reasons towards making the decision to do this was to pursue a career in music. It’s not that I’m thinking any differently now to how I was before, it’s just there were stacks of other things. I’ve already sort of established myself as feeling very at home-I have a bedroom with posters of the Beatles and Pink Floyd on the wall, some musical instruments littering the place and a desk whose sole purpose is to be unused for everything but losing my keys on. I’ve always been a pretty homely person (if you’re hard into horoscopes, I’m a Cancer. At least my starsign says I can be this feminine without it being weird..) but I’ve never felt that comfortable at home I suppose. It’s nothing at all to do with home life or company but over the last year-ish I’ve just been so uncomfortable everywhere I was.

Anyways, I got that same pang on the tube home from work that I’d get on the train home from work back in Sydney-“I need to get me the fuck out of here.” This time instead of, “I need to move to London…”, I got an, “I need to move to Brighton…” It’s the strangest thing.

So I’ve come up with two possibilities as to this thought train. Well..technically three but the third one is lame and enjoys having a sneaky make-out in the corner with science. So, the first reason is that I simply haven’t found the right place for me yet, somewhere that I can really feel comfortable and really at home. It’s a feeling I haven’t honestly had since I was about 16 or 17. So the alternative to that is to…maybe, well…get the fuck out of here? Stick it out for a bit longer, keep eating brown rice, quit my job, either move to Brighton or send half of my shit home and buy a massive backpack and travel Europe while I still have money. It sounds very appealing but it’s against what I had originally planned. But does that matter for shit? I honestly don’t know..

The second possible reason I figured out is that I am crazy, my friends from my KHS days will testify I’ve been crazy for quite some time and maybe I just needed to come somewhere to be a bit more by myself to just totally and utterly lose my shit. I have to say, I feel like this is the one. Somewhere to learn to live in and love my own company.

The third one is the most reasonable and I like it the least. It’s that I’ve been eating shockingly poorly the last few months, I haven’t been to gym in over 2 months and my body is shocked from how bad my diet and alcohol intake has been as of late (and not even that long ago…).

I think I’m going to get my body balanced out before I make any rash decisions to blow $10k ish seeing the world, since it’d most likely be alone. I don’t know if that would remedy it.

I don’t really remember what the point of this blog was. I just wanted to write a blog about a strange feeling I was having. To y’all back home-I obviously miss you all very dearly and hope everything’s going just swell! Keep well and I promise to try and get healthier. Doctor’s appointment super soon yyyyeah!

Peace out!
Toby Fredkin

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