6/8/96 - Isla Vista

[Isla Vista, or I.V., is the motley collection of dilapidated apartment buildings and sad little one-story commercial strip that adjoins the University of California at Santa Barbara. It is considered a separate town from Goleta and S.B., and it really is a different state of mind. 75% of UCSB's students live there, packed densely into cheaply built, mostly 60's-vintage roach traps, which rent for exorbitant amounts. Some of these front an extremely pretty stretch of beach.]

[I.V. is famous for its Halloween parties and for burning down its branch of the Bank of America in 1970. Then-Calif. Gov. Ronald Reagan sent in the National Guard to quell the "rebellion," but that's about as "60's" as UCSB ever got. Most mainstream Santa Barbarans hardly ever go there, even those who work at the University.]

6/8/96 - Espresso Roma, I.V.

It's odd being back here after who knows how many months. Seeing the Commencement banners at UCSB, wandering around I.V., makes me feel wistful and a bit defeated. It's hard knowing this place was too much for me to conquer. I keep telling myself I got a good education here, but I know that without that damn piece of paper...

Max says the men aren't as fun to watch as of yore, and so far, he's right. This whole skate rat, neo-70's fashion only looks good on models. What a simple pleasure man-watching used to be. There were times walking or biking to class when I needed a Valium or five.

So few I.V. businesses which existed when I moved are still around. Moo Shi, Subway, Hobson's, the I.V. Surf Co. are about it. Roma and Freebird's moved, do they count? Whither Borsodi's, Baba's, Pizza Bob's, the Graduate, La Jicora, Lickety Split, Dave's Market? Oh, nothing will get rid of Woodstock's, the I.V. Bookstore or the I.V. Market or the Food Co-Op. But where is the bike shop at Pardall & Embarcadero del Mar, or El Pollo Norteno? I feel proprietary about these places that were such landmarks for me.

[Funny. The first day I saw I.V. with my little freshman eyes, I was horrified. It looked like a cross between Boyes Hot Springs (the Tobacco Road section of the Sonoma Valley) and the seedier parts of Waikiki, which I'd visited the previous summer. It was my worst Southern California prejudices come to life. Now, I miss it from time to time.]

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