A long, long time ago a group of guys got together to solve a problem they all had: mainly, they weren’t making enough money. They were all hardy, entrepreneurial folk blessed with a classical liber...
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Well … After four years of sweaty adolescent suffering you’ve made it. Congratufuckinglations, and welcome to UCSB. Welcome to a university so totally awesome that even today the occasional moron ...
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I like Isla Vista in the fog. People whisper and walk deliberately. Loud music gets muted, and streetside joint smoke disappears like it never was. In the dark, even the bros take off their imitation ...
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A while ago, when I was a much wilder and uncivilized version of the gentleman scholar that I am today, I found myself stranded in Lima, Peru for two weeks. I’m not particularly sure how or why, bec...
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I was walking home late one Friday night when I was stopped by a crying girl. Instantly I was suspicious. Before college, it seemed like girls cried all the time; if you made fun of their hair or forg...
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Sometimes I fear for the Bear Flag Republic. I was walking through our beloved Isla Vista around midnight. It was a weekday and the streets were quiet. The air was warm and peaceful, pregnant with the...
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Sex is crazy. I know. That statement is about as obvious as a polar bear. But hang on. What I’m about to say might not be. I think about sex a lot. I think about it when I wake up. I think about it ...
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Floatopia. Oh yeah, baby, this is a hot-button issue.
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A drug commercial for your consideration: The screen is black. A heart monitor rhythmically beeps in the background. The screen slowly blinks twice. It reveals two, faintly blurry masked doctors stand...
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“Don’t fuck around.” A simple ethos, perhaps, but a powerful one. Don’t fuck around — a philosophy proven to flavor friendships, enrich experiences and stave off the humdrum of our happy exi...
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April 10, 1861: It appears war has come to our gay and God-fearing lands.
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I have recently noticed, with increasing unease, the growing presence of religiously oriented content in the public sphere here at UCSB and Isla Vista.
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Some would say the best feature of the I.V. party scene is the legions of scrumdiddliumptious women (and men) who roam the streets like a wild pack of chinchillas, force-fed an exclusive diet of Spani...
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Fall is finally here. I know this to be a fact for a few reasons. It’s now getting dark at five, which makes me sad because it radically cuts into my day drinking.
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
