“Stephanie,” a City College student, questions if she will ever receive her Union-Tribune (U-T) newspaper service that she paid for. “The gentleman introduced himself as a student from the San Diego City College journalism department,” …
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Stories by Anonymous .
The summer of 2014 in Ocean Beach was hot, the water was unusually warm, dolphins were leaping out of the water, and fishermen were having a heyday, filling their buckets with everything from mackerel to …
I live in a conflict area in Tijuana. It was bound to happen. I have been detained and frisked numerous times by the police in downtown TJ. Some of my friends have been arrested over …
For the first time in four years, the Berkley-based psychobilly band Tiger Army added a San Diego date to their tour. The show was apparently much anticipated, as there was cheering between every recorded song …
I’m choking on the drifting smell of Mrs. Fields cookies as I stare into the eyes of the middle-aged woman. Her look conveys doubt as I reach out and place my hand on her wrist. …
So vast, our Goddess Night, she rises, Star-eyes gazing everywhere; All her finery of dress displayed. Space high and low she fills, Eternal Night, Her beauty driving out the dark. Close on the heels of …
The gates of the town are closed. The princes have gone to sleep. The chatter of voices has quieted down. Doorbolts are fastened. Not until morning will they be opened. The gods of the place, …
On July 30 at about 2 a.m., the clerk working at the 1290 West Valley Parkway 7-Eleven saw a man walk out of the store with a six-pack of beer he hadn't paid for. After …
May 10 must be the year’s hardest day for Mary Ann. In 1997, her son, Andrew Cunanan, went on a killing spree that ended with the death of fashion designer Gianni Versace, on a sparkling …
On July15th, 1991, we moved into this house. After the last of the boxes had been delivered, we went to sleep with the windows open to let some air in on what had been one …
What woke me was a hand over my face, over my mouth and nose: the pressure, the instinctive still-asleep panic of being unable to breathe; someone’s hands yanking my arms over my head; a body on mine, knees crushing my chest and stomach.
A beach is a good place for not thinking. There’s no work at a beach. Everyone’s there to hang out. Normal rules of life are suspended. That makes the beach safe, in a weird way. …
These “baby taxis” are pushcarts that hold five or six little kids. On conjugal visit days, couples pay the “taxi driver” to push their kids around the yard while they slip off to a carraca.