The life and times of Vernon Dailey
By Vernon Dailey on 'Oh my goodness, he’s at it again...'
first person
Post-election shock and it’s effect on one psychotic man
By Jack Bragen on This seems very Orwellian, and worse.
The unseen toll of homeless encampment sweeps
By Hollie Garrett on ‘Does the removal of encampments truly address the problem of homelessness, or does it merely displace individuals who are struggling to survive?’
Learning to live with voices and finding community in sharing them
By Dusk Delacour on "The mental health community has so many different experiences, and we are stronger together and less alone when we learn about others and invite them to learn about us."
We say ‘Opioid Crisis’ like the crisis is over
By Lauren Dissident Parker on "The argument to keep people alive in the wake of harm reduction always starts with housing. Countless studies—from Havard health reports, social service organizations, and even the news—conclude that in order for people to not overdose, they need homes."
The life and times of Street Spirit vendor Vernon Dailey
By Vernon Dailey on "Hello everyone, this is Vernon Dailey. This is a story of an adolescent kid growing into a teenage boy and then eventually a young man growing up in Berkeley, into adulthood."
How the shame of poverty became 27 years in prison
By Kevin Sample on Introducing Street Spirit's new Vendor Coordinator, Kevin Sample
Learning the value of my vote
By Andrew Hardy on I never knew the understated yet entirely raw power of voting until Super Tuesday, 2024
After eight months out of print, Street Spirit is back!
By Alastair Boone on “Street Spirit!” an unhoused friend exclaims each time I walk by her encampment on San Pablo Avenue. “That’s the people’s newspaper!”
From Street Spirit to You
By Vernon Dailey on Street Spirit is back. We done it with your help and we are still doing it, but it don’t stop here.
Homeless at the Piano
By Andy Pope on I think it was this. I had gotten so used to only being accepted by people who were outside, and being looked down upon by people who lived inside, I couldn’t imagine them doing anything other than to look down on me, even as I played the piano.