Turtles About Town is a community art project that highlights the City of Galveston and the conservation efforts of Turtle Island Restoration Network to protect endangered sea turtles on the upper Texas coast. Turtle lovers of all ages have the oportunity to see 50 colorful Kemp’s ridley sea turtle statues that have been installed around the island since 2018. Businesses, individuals and organizations graciously sponsor the turtle statues while local artists are commissioned to give each one its own personality and meaning.
Download a FREE map and go on a tour:
Be sure to tag Turtle Island Restoration Network in your images (@TIRN-Gulf on Facebook and @TIRN.Gulf on Instagram) and tag #TurtlesAboutTown
seaturtles.org
clapcupstudios.com
GLOW RIDE
3rd Thur of Every Month
Night Life
LETTER FROM PUBLISHER:
As Alicia Bridges says, “I love the nightlife, I love to boogie...” As we age and the seasons of our life change, we may find that the nightlife may or may not suit us. But in the dead of Texas summer, it is easy to see why nighttime might be the right time to pretty much do anything.
In this issue, we highlight Galveston at night. Here we look at that special allure Galveston carries and what our locals and visitors are getting into after dark. The history is rich and so are some of the inhabitants. Galveston has come to offer a variety of people, music, food, and culture that make it a melting pot worth stirring. Don’t be fooled by the glitz as not all night stories shine bright. There are always untold tales that may not sit well with most. Good or bad, Galveston’s nightlife boasts its fair share of excitement.
We encourage you to sit down, turn on, and tune in. Most of all we hope you read, enjoy, and share.
Meet up at 6pm in front
Write us an email or shoot us a comment any time online: CultureClashGalveston.com CultureClashGalveston@gmail.com
Janese Maricelli
Publisher
ON THE COVER: “Night Vibes” by Corinne Tamayo. Graphic Design in Photoshop. This artist is a graphic designer at JanMar agency and a traditional artist on the side. She enjoys working digitally as well working with pencil and paint on paper or canvas. Contact or follow her @corincat331 on Instagram.
*This magazine is NOT printed on recycled paper or with soy-based inks YET! But we are working on it. Help us get there, advertise or sponsor us! E-mail for more details CultureClashGalveston@gmail.com.
Piano Keys and Spilled Shots
A Galveston Love Letter
A Galveston Love Letter Piano Keys and Spilled Shots
By Robert Dean
THERE’S A SLIGHT, BEAUTIFUL CHAOS PERCOLATING PAST THE WATERS CRASHING AGAINST THE SEAWALL. It’s out of sight, but it exists. While the tourists parade past Pleasure Pier’s Ferris wheel, stopping for a chicken sandwich down at Chick-a-fil, they’re unaware of what’s happening once the sand stops and the concrete begins.
Galveston is a city of dive bars. This is not the place if you’re looking for sexy,
sweaty nights on the dance floor to a thumping Dua Lipa beat. Instead, it’s a beach town where chatting about the mysteries of the human experience is normal bar talk, just the same as smelling the magnolias bloom as you drunk stumble from Island Pier Club to Denny’s for a late-night Moons Over My Hammy. Here, no one cares if you’ve got a BMW or wearing a Rolex, and if you are, the next round is on you. No one is chasing status but trying to find their best chance at a life. That’s why the locals celebrate their
Born on The Island (BOI) status. Galveston is a place of contrasting big money hotels, and the quiet streets of the east side of the city, which create a specific attitude, something that locals extol, no matter if they arrived last week or twenty years back. Pirates found this place, and a little of their blood is still in the water, making it acrid yet sweet. It takes a certain kind of person to love Galveston, to seek out the lore, to dare to find its best places for a beer at sunset, or where to grab a whiskey with that cute bartender you met from the hotel who just got off their shift.
Galveston is a working-class town with a history as rich as any other area lauded for its culture and social identity. Still, the thing about that culture is to lie back and let
life happen at its own pace rather than chase the dragon of “LOOK AT US, WE’RE SO FUN.” Galveston should be kept like a bird in the hands of those who love it. It’s a special place that doesn’t puff up its chest, daring visitors to soak it in; instead, it’s a take it or leave it attitude, but if you’d like to have a tall boy along the way, that’s cool, too.
My Galveston is drinks at O’Malley’s in the daytime with bartenders chatting up the local gossip, talking a little shit, complaining about this or that over a Ruben as the daywalkers outside depart from the cruise terminals or make their oil and gas deals an hour north up in Houston. My Galveston is wandering the back streets on a sleepy Tuesday night when no one is out but us, looking for a slice of adventure. When I come to town, you’ll find me strumming guitars with Derek
Anderson, my friend who’s one of the best local artists in the zip code. We buy cheap bottles of wine and argue about the Beatles or Stones, then traipse over to Cellar Bar to harass Mike Snow. We put on Elmore James and let the nights fade into memories, one pour of Jameson at a time. We’ll meet local weirdos along the way and promise to “not make it a late night.” And then, as the script promises, we always do. God knows how many hangover smoothies I’ve bought from Lolo Kai.
Downtown is where I wander, and I usually stay off Church Street. Just close enough where I can make my way home at all hours, but always see my people behind the bar. I’ve hoisted many a drink at the Albatross, where some of the island’s most interesting locals slap their bucks on the Formica, ready for another one. I’ll grab a bar steak at Jack’s, where I’ll be
covered in cigarette smoke, and immediately need a shower when I get back to my room. I love a quiet drink with fishermen over at Press Box to cut up with local legend Joey who keeps a tight ship on who walks through his door.
When I was still married, my wife took me down to Galveston. It was somewhere she’d grown up coming with her dad. We’d made a few trips over the years as a couple, but I couldn’t get the island out of my ichor when we separated. Since then, it’s become the place to get my head straight, to figure my shit out when everything feels like an evermoving gordian knot that only gets harder to unravel with life’s problems. I come here to self-solve, to flush out the bullshit of being an adult. Galveston’s slow
pace and non-expectant attitude give me a shot in the arm I need as a person. Somehow, a few late-night beach walks or a few bottles of PBR over at Sandy’s Country Store mend the soul in ways I can’t calculate. Then, I pack up my black VW SUV and head home to Austin, nourished. I don’t know what spell Galveston has on me, but I know it means something.
Every August, I come alone for my birthday. I’m not looking for chaos, but it finds me in subtle ways, just wanted as a gift from the back streets of Avenue O or over by Henry’s on Broadway. I’ll get dinner and accept that I’m a year older. Despite the intrigue of the shores of a different sea, this place always demands I come to celebrate that small milestone, even if it’s just another day on the calendar. Maybe one year, someone will come with me. Till then, I’m ok browsing the shelves of the used bookstore or stopping for a song or two over the Old Quarter.
Galveston is a city of secrets, a language spoken in hushed tones between the sheets. While people on the mainland might have snarky things to say about “the water being dirty” or a “ghetto little island,” that’s fine; that’s exactly what they should be saying. Keep going to Corpus Christi or down to South Padre, and I’m all for it. Keep saying bad things about the little strip of land that hurricanes love to crash into. Keep spending your time where you can see the crystal-clear water with the white sand. Totally cool with me. Go get that blueberry mojito, baby. If I’m gonna do shots and look at the water, I’m good doing it to Black Flag’s “Rise Above” at the Library Bar. Everyone thinks the city is just a window to the Gulf of Mexico when instead, there are many watering holes in town with a cavalcade of characters all too willing to dance till they holler Last Call and cut the music. It’s up to you how you choose your poison in this ragged heart of a town.
It ’s Al l Gravy
DID I EVER TELL YOU ABOUT THE TIME I LEFT GALVESTON TO SEE A GIRL IN BOSTON AND ENDED UP ON A THREE DAY BENDER IN NEW ORLEANS? Probably not, because that story takes a solid half hour to tell. But let’s try to capture the spirit of it anyway. Buckle up. Here we go.
The Reader’s Digest version: My friend John came down from Houston to socialize. I took him to the Stage Door where, as usual, Jeff O’Malley had my beer opened and waiting before my ass hit the stool. We drank, talked, threw darts, (Jeff wouldn’t hear of corrupting the place with billiards,) and proceeded to solve the world’s problems.
Closing time rolled around and, as in any real Irish bar, they locked the door. Luckily we were safely inside, drinking for free because the register was closed. Jeff had left us with Chris McDonald and company, who kindly let us out at 3:00 AM. From there we made our way to Streeter’s Saloon, a biker bar on 14th Street, where the Mosquito Café now stands. The door to Streeter’s was wide open, and remained that way until 4:30 AM. We walked to my apartment a block from the Bishop’s Palace, got in the car with blankets and bank cards, and headed east, beginning our 72 hours adventure.
At this point in the morning most civilized folk would retire to the only Denny’s in town, at 61st and I-45 and about ten feet lower in elevation, in what is now the PetSmart parking lot. What that says about our character I’ll leave for you to decide. As for our sojourn in NOLA, catch me at the Galveston Brewery and I’ll fill a half hour of your life with all the gory details. For now we’ll remain on these sandy shores.
Had our moods been different, the only thing across from the Stage Door back then was two Korean strip clubs. Rosie’s and some other bar, in the same space as Molly’s and the Old Cellar. Rosie’s, along with the other Korean bar, would eventually get chased around the corner, before disappearing altogether. The Sweet Apple and its neighbors, over at 20th and Strand, suffered the same fate. The only other strip clubs that availed themselves were Wispers at
BY DAN MARKS
21st and Mechanic, which I’d never been in, and the Golden Mermaid at 14th and Strand. They were all dives. But the drinks were cheap and the employees left you alone if you weren’t interested in their wares.
These were the kinds of places my landlord took me to, him buying the drinks, thus subsidizing my income in some sodden way. He also introduced me to a neighborhood country bar at 12th and L, now long gone. But he was not a rager.
Dylan Thomas wrote “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night”, a tome against quietly shuffling off this mortal coil. “Rage. Rage! Against the dying of the light!” If THIS was the kind of drinking you wanted, you had to head downtown.
The square around NCNB Bank, now BofA, was home to the Kon Tiki and Evolutions, some riotous fun. And I don’t say “fun” lightly. This was, after all, the tail end of the Reagan Era. Having “fun” was no small feat. Gay bars in College Station were getting fire bombed. Both of these places were advertised as gay bars, but saw quite a variety of clientele. I don’t remember any more, but one of them might have even doubled as an afterhours club.
There was no Proletariat, no Black Pearl, no Nautical Antiques, Galveston Bookstore was still two blocks south, in an impossibly small nook, and Robert’s Lafitte is a mile away. Both places played modern music and had wild dance floors. The Kon Tiki, in the Diamonds Building next to the Bookstore’s present location, was also home to numerous charity drag shows, hosted by Island famous Misty Valdez. Evolutions, in the middle of the block on Mechanic, was the closest I’d seen to a rave on the Island. Although there was a short lived place in the back room of what is now the Strand Lofts, aptly named The Back Room. It only lasted one season.
One block west of the Square was an 18+ bar that no one went to. Why go there when one block east of the Square stood the Old Galveston Club, originally a speak easy. The abandoned drug store that fronted it stood in what is now the parking lot behind the Grand Opera House.
OGC’s entrance was a green door in the alley with the name painted on the wall. They were loose on the age requirement but treated you like an adult. A drunk adult. An alcohol burning meteor shooting across a big black sky above God’s little gift to Texas! Crossing the threshold into that sunless room was like stepping back in time, or onto the stage of the Galveston that was.
The Kon Tiki 2022
Evolutions 2022
The four pillars of OGC were a famously eclectic juke box, the big intricately carved mahogany bar, five giant nude portraits of Galveston debutantes (one of which was rumored to be Candy, further down the page), and bartender Santos Cruz. Santos was funny and friendly, free with the pour, and dead certain he’d invented the margarita. Don’t even bother arguing that one.
The Saturday that marked OGC’s demolition after the building had been condemned also saw the final migration of its patrons to O’Malley’s Stage Door. I pedaled down there at 9:00 AM and took a picture of Santos leaning on a parking meter with the first tumbled wall in the background. I gave copies to Santos and Jeff O’Malley. Jeff’s copy, unfortunately, had been hanging on the wall below the Ike waterline, near the sign that now reads, “You have to be THIS tall to drink here during a hurricane.”
The Grand Opera House, right next door, used to send Jeff tickets to shows that hadn’t sold out. Jeff would stand at the center of the bar, waving the tickets, and say in his deep Chicago accent, “Who wants to see a show?” Turning a night of drinking into a night of drunken cultural exposure.
O’Malley’s is still there, but Jeff moved to Disneyworld and the Irish mafia changed the menu so the Frito Pie is too salty for my taste. But you can still order a Club sandwich that, last time I checked, is not on the menu.
Sarah Piel navigated through Ike to get the Grand back to its former self. I was lucky enough to see Lyle Lovett in his first show
Candy’s 2022
Old Galveston Club 1993
after the storm. He stopped in the middle of his first song, looked around, and admired the repairs to the stage he’d known since a boy. He became an IBC that night.
For a good dinner date, if the stage wasn’t your preference, the only place was Candy’s Italian restaurant, also on Mechanic, now an antique shop. Candy was the wife of a Merchant Marine Engineer and the restaurant kept her busy while he was at sea. She was an older Italian matron, always at your table and advertising which food and wine was most likely to consummate the evening’s activities. More than once she wiped a handful of bread through what was left of my spaghetti sauce and shoved it in my mouth, saying, “Come on, baby. THIS is how you eat.”
The passing of these places, with Clary’s and some others, wasn’t a tragedy for the loss of the buildings or the businesses. But for the personalities and the flavors. Few remain. But we all grow up. The days of $10,000 shotgun shacks is gone. More condos and other venues are making ready for gambling and resort living. Change isn’t bad, and that’s what’s happening to our little Island. I just miss the crazy people.
GALVESTON MY @ NIGHT
BY HANNA LOWERY
GALVESTON AT NIGHT… OH HOW SHE COMES ALIVE. To the newcomers, this may take some time to see, but behind the elegant, antique facade lies a night life beyond comparison.
So subtle, one may even miss it just passing through, here’s a guide to let Galveston charm you.
GALVESTON AT NIGHT, SOCIALITE EDITION.
Do you live for the adventure of meeting new people? Getting to know their story? Learning what makes them unique? Maybe you sit in front of a computer all day everyday, and crave the social hour - or hours that make us human. If so, this is the guide specific to you. Nestled in the downtown area of Galveston lies an abundance of electrifying restaurants and bars, the perfect place to meet up with friends, or make new ones.
Every great night starts with a great meal.
One of the best places to start your night out in Galveston is located on the corner of 21st and Postoffice Street. Slip into Mama Teresa’s Flying Pizza, have a seat at the bar and spark up conversation with a local - you’re sure to find one here. Besides, you can’t go wrong with hand tossed pizza and $3 wine.
Afterwards, bring your new friends next door for a live performance at the new and improved Old Galveston Club, featuring live music of different genres including 1970s rock, country, and original singer-songwriters that are sure to get the party started.
OLD GALVESTON CLUB - 418 21ST ST, GALVESTON, TX 77550
You’re all loosened up and ready to keep this train rolling. Where to next?
How about Market Station, which features a shiny new painting of a train station atop a townhome style building. Here, you can find fun billiard games to play while enjoying a drink. Pro tip, this is the island’s only spot for full-sized pool tables.
MARKET STATION - 2310 MARKET ST, GALVESTON, TX 77550
AN ALTERNATIVE, THE PERFECT WEEKDAY NIGHT OUT
Just enough to catch a buzz, but more inclined to wake up on time in the morning.
Ah yes, you guessed it; a Galveston Weekday - or in other words, drinkday. Galveston, like many beach towns, embraces the It’s-5 o’clock-somewhere state of mind. With this mindset comes boundaries, or at least suggests the establishment of such. Like, some of us can start at 3PM, slam a handful of vodka sodas before dinner, and rage the remainder of the night until the last call. And for those of you superhumans who existhats off to you. HOWEVER, the mortal of us who stand witness to this itinerary, need a more realistic plan– especially for the average weekday.
Luckily, a city like Galveston makes this manageable, a night filled with just enough fun, but still, with the help of a trusty charged alarm, will still wake up on time for those obnoxiously-assured weekday commitments- ugh.
Anyhow, let’s get into it.. Starting with
Tuesday: In the most Galveston-fashion possible. Tuesdays are great and under budgetwho doesn’t love that? One of the most affordable and fun spots is one of the least likely. Ah yes, The VFW.
Yes, you heard that right: the Veterans of Foreign Wars post. God, it hurts so bad to say, but this shit is actually fun AF. Allow me to deliver this sales pitch.
The VFW on Tuesday evenings… a pretty bitch paradise.
“Huh?” I meant exactly that. Whenever you’re a pretty bitch, you have expectations; for yourself.
NOT HERE. Everyone and their mother who enters the VFW is, on average 65-years-old and older. They have absolutely no interest in you, there are no standards honey. Come as you fucking are. Regardless, they have BINGO every Tuesday night, in which game winners receive a token for a free drink. Additionally, Tuesdays consist of Burger Nightand not just any burger night, but $4.00 burgers. Sorry, but cheap food tastes better.
I do not mean to portray this burger incorrectly, SCOUTS HONOR. This burger is actually pretty badass, it competes with the works of establishments like Whataburger- no joke. And if you give it a try and disagree, I’ll buy you a beer. At the VFW, for $2.75. This isn’t even during happy hour- which exists from 11am-6pm weekdays. I mean, come on. You can’t compete with that.
DANCE REVOLUTION
Some times, you just need to DANCE! Despite what it may look like, we have a few dance options.
Want to get down and dirty with your best friend while driving the tourists and local college kids crazy? Hit the floor and shake your groove thang at Club Envy (formally Bliss). This is a Friday and Saturday joint only but boasts all the must-haves like a decent DJ, full bar, extra loud speakers, pompous door guy, and sexy lighting. Ladies typically get in free making Envy a great place to get started.
ENVY DANCE CLUB - 2413 THE STRAND, GALVESTON, TX 77550
Need a partner, partner? Check out Galveston’s only “kicker” club, Buckshot Saloon. Here you can ride the bull and do-si-do your partner. Complete with cowboys, this club is great for testing out your social skills. If you come alone, you are sure to find a friend in one of the many two-step fanatics looking for fun.
WHEN I WAS A CHILD, I ALWAYS THOUGHT GENTLEMEN’S CLUBS WERE WHERE ARISTOCRATIC MEN GATHERED IN BURGUNDY ROBES TO SMOKE THE FINEST TOBACCO FROM THEIR BRIAR WOOD PIPES, AND FRATERNIZE WITH OTHER ELITES WHO WORE FEZ HATS. I imagined those same highly sophisticated men sitting gracefully by a fireplace discussing politics, economics, and eloquently debating about current international issues. The idea of it sounded charming, where society was steadily and rapidly declining, a few good men were fighting to preserve the integrity, honor, and respect of this country. It was then in my pondering that my older brother informed me that I was ridiculous and that, in fact, gentlemen’s clubs were where sleazy dudes got away from their wives to see naked women dance.
Being six years old and full of wisdom, I assured him that he was mistaken and that no institution that provided those services surely could not get away with calling themselves a gentlemen’s club. My brother laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and continued playing on his Gameboy. Unsure of myself I asked my father what gentlemen’s clubs were. “A place where your uncle goes every week,” he responded bluntly. “Which uncle?” I asked. “Martín,” he answered. With that answer, I knew my brother was telling the truth. My Tío Martín didn’t have a burgundy robe, he wore white shirts with suspicious stains, he didn’t smoke the finest tobacco from briar pipes, he smoked Newport cigarettes, and he surely didn’t know about politics, economics, nor what the word eloquent meant. I may have not known much, but I knew my uncle wasn’t a gentleman.
Eighteen years have passed since then. I now know that gentlemen’s clubs are a euphemism for strip clubs. And that strip clubs are essentially a euphemism for clubs that have women dance naked for money from men with, possibly, stained shirts. Even with all those years behind me, that memory comes up every time when I drive back to the island late at night.
Ocean Cabaret
The Ocean Cabaret’s iconic neon green lit exterior can grab anyone’s attention when they drive by on I-45. There’s not one person I’ve met on the island that hasn’t talked about Ocean Cabaret. And considering that Culture Clash’s topic for this issue was “Night Life” naturally, I thought, for the sake of journalism and clashing culture, why not take a small field trip to Ocean Cabaret? Never really having any experience in the strip club world, I thought that maybe it would make an interesting story. Every alright story has a green light, Gatsby had his at the end of a dock, and mine was on the side of a highway.
Before I made my voyage to Ocean Cabaret, I thought it would be wise to read some reviews. From a lawsuit threat to a comment about a stripper with one leg. “Maybe,” I thought, “reading the reviews wasn’t the best idea.” But the only way to truly know a place is by going there, so, I closed my laptop, got in my car, and went.
As I exited to pull into the gentlemen’s club, a giant billboard that read: JESUS, greeted me. Perhaps, it was my Catholic guilt, or perhaps it was the excitement of going to a world unknown that made me anxious. Maybe it was the Catholic guilt because as I got out of my car in the parking lot I could feel the cars from the highway look at me with judging eyes, thinking, “Sinner!” I could see my religion teacher, my grandmother, and my neighbor who walks her dogs every Sunday drive-by in those cars looking at me disappointed. I rushed in as fast as I could.
I paid a fifteen-dollar entry fee and entered a room with flashing lights, but there were no dancers or men with stained shirts to be found, only empty chairs and a desolate stage, I wondered if this was the strip club experience. But, it was only eight o’clock, so I thought I should reserve my judgments. I was approached by the manager of the establishment, expecting to be kicked out or reprimanded, he approached me in a cordial way. He informed me about the history of the building and the business. I asked him about the one-legged stripper, he clarified that that has been in existence since the eighties, a piece of me was slightly disappointed. I asked him if it was possible to interview a dancer, and he said sure.
He introduced me to one of Ocean Cabaret’s leading stars. For the purposes of respect and privacy I won’t be giving her stage name, but let’s call her Wonder Woman.
Wonder Woman sat down with me. She was kind, smart, witty, self-aware, and, most importantly, human. I think what most people, and by people, I mean the upper class, men in general, and even bitter women, tend to forget is that performers like Wonder Woman are just like any of us. Except maybe they dance naked for money, but that’s neither here nor there.
I asked her if she was okay with an interview and she confidently said yes. This is the short interview:
CC: How long have you been performing?
WW: Since I was eighteen, so about ten years now.
CC: What are things clients shouldn’t do?
WW: They shouldn’t try to put their hand in my fucking vagina, and they shouldn’t try to put their nasty mouths on my titties. There are boundaries and people need to respect them.
CC: Do people really try to do that?
WW: Yeah, and it’s gross. People need to know they have to be respectful and understand that there are things you just don’t do. But that’s not just a here thing, that can happen at every strip club.
CC: What did you do before this?
WW: I’ve worked retail, it wasn’t bad or anything. It’s just you can make a lot more money here than retail.
CC: Weirdest request?
WW: This wasn’t here, but a man used to pay me and this other girl over a thousand to stomp on his dick. There was also this other guy who would pay hundreds to suck on my heel.
After the interview, Wonder Woman gave me a quick tour (not a euphemism) of the place, she showed me a barred cage with handcuffs nailed to the wall, this, I was informed, was for men who liked to be cuffed and spanked by the performers. Right next to the cage was a shower where, well, you put that one together.
I was informed that Ocean Cabaret was a fully nude bar, and considering the only fully nude people I’ve ever seen were my brother, a schizophrenic man in the locker room of a YMCA, and my long-term girlfriend (yes, all on separate occasions) maybe I felt a bit nervous.
The DJ called Wonder Woman to the stage, I was the only one in attendance. She said something really cool along the lines of, “Watch how it’s done.” The manager approached me with a stack of ones to exchange for a twenty. So, naturally obligated to support my new friend and indulge in this strange world, I saw Wonder Woman perform. I can’t lie, I felt a bit intrusive or awkward, I could feel my uncle Martín calling me a pussy from the grave. Wonder Woman noticed and gave me a tutorial on client etiquette, she even showed me how to make it “rain,” or in my case, with my twenty ones, make it “drizzle.” She laughed and asked me if I was having fun, and I was, but for some reason, as I watched Wonder Woman perform, I thought about other things, such as the history of dance, the history of humanity, art and war. I’m not an anthropologist so I won’t get into it, but watching her performance was more than something erotic, it was humanity disguised as adult entertainment.
After her performance, I applauded and gave her a high-five. We sat by the bar to talk more. We spoke about politics, and economics, and spoke about current issues in the world.
Maybe this was a Gentlemen’s club.
Later in the night, I was joined by other dancers who were jovial and funny, they gave me a story about a girl who shoved five ping-pong balls in places not International Table Tennis Federation approved and only managed to get three out. Or how some women can place champagne bottles in places that weren’t necessarily ice buckets.
I saw women performing feats of athleticism on stage. I saw performers swinging from the rafters. I saw dollar bills in places I’d never seen them placed before. I saw neon lights. I saw humanity.
I said my goodbyes, got in my car, and drove off. As I saw the neon green lights from my review mirror, I thought to myself, “This is the nightlife.”
COOLTURE
ADAM HESSE IS A SURREALIST PAINTER IN CONCEPT, YET ABIDES BY THE TECHNIQUES AND RULES SET FORTH BY THE RENAISSANCE MASTERS. He attempts to evoke underpinning emotions and paradigms in an effort at telling a story. Sometimes ours, sometimes, something imagined. His application of vibrant colors is used in the intent of matching and complimenting various, but specific wavelengths of light. He is active in the region’s festivals and concerts where you can see him live painting in his little corner; always ready to make a connection.
See More of Adam’s work...
hypnadance.com/ instagram.com/ hessianartwerks/
Troman
BOOK REVIEW BY JOSÉ MENDIOLA
LOCAL WRITER AND CREATIVE ROBERT W. PIETZSCH HAS RELEASED A SCIENCE-FICTION NOVEL NAMED TROMAN. Pietzsch, a Navy veteran that served during the Vietnam War and a former employee from the Mars Inc. team that developed the Tropical and Wild Berry flavored Skittles, has led a very interesting life that has brought him to write an extremely captivating book.
Pietzsch was inspired by his daughter to work on an informative and entertaining science-fiction novel that involved the culture and history of the Mayans and Mexican society. While living in Mexico and Belize, Pietzsch did a great deal of researching ancient societies which led him to pursue writing Troman. Pietzsch traveled extensively through cities enriched with Mayan culture such as Chichen Itza, Uxmal, and Cobák.
The story focuses on three recent high school graduates Jessie, Jason, and Wendy on a trip to the Yucatan of Mexico to study and research the history of Mayan civilizations. The trio come across a humanoid missing link named Troman who holds the secrets of an ancient prehistoric race. The group embarks on a thrilling journey that explores the past of ancient civilizations, unseen societies, and the possible future of what their very own world holds at stake.
The novel is an informative, original, and entertaining story for everyone to enjoy. Troman is available to purchase on Amazon and locally at select shops.
Robert Pietzsch spends his time with his family, fishing, and metal detecting. Pietzsch credits his daughter, Kristen Garcia, for helping push his novel to a wider network of consumers which has increased the sales of his ebook worldwide.
Remember, supporting Robert W. Pietzsch is synonymous with supporting local artists and creatives of Galveston. Godspeed, Robert W. Pietzsch! May Troman obliterate each and every obstacle in its way!
BUY LOCAL:
Lone Star Heroes: Comics & Toys 8910 Seawall Blvd C Galveston, TX 77554
Dimensions Comics, Music & More 1908, b, 3061, Hialeah Dr. Seabrook, TX 77586
RUNK HOROSCO ES D P
By Madame Jenna Tolls
Emotional and brave, you have been going through a rough patch in your life. Do not fret, the tumultuous path you’ve been walking on will only strengthen your soul and perseverance. When you go out tonight, do not be afraid to speak your mind. Profess your love to the highest mountains. Call your family to tell them you love them. Go on and dare to be yourself. Just don’t cry about it later, okay?
Energetic and the ability to be reserved simultaneously is no easy task. Considering the sun is moving in your sign this July, or something like that, you should feel like yourself more or less. Basically, good shit’s coming your way, try not to bathe in your glory too much, you narcissist. As for partying, get wild and rally hard, you deserve it. Just don’t pat yourself on the back too much, you might pull something.
Aren’t you tired of having the need to be in control? You’re secretly crazy and everyone loves it. These next two months, if you give yourself the chance to loosen up, will be somewhat memorable. Go out with some old friends and have a laugh. Just don’t go running off in the middle streets to push over a construction barrel or something lame, you lightweights.
Some people take Libras as airheads, but deep down they are extremely profound thinkers. Libras should consider these next months to not get wild, but to sit down, drink wine, and watch a movie. Although not the best-designated drivers, Libras are always willing to be there for their friends, at least when they do decide to go out. When drunk, Libras are often carried out by friends or are found in restrooms passed out on the toilet. Take care and take it easy.
Hey, sleazebags and sleazebaggets, I’d give you the same treatment as the Gemini but considering that some of you are, and I emphasize the word some, are decent people I think the best advice I will give you is to go out and limit yourself to a drink or two. Coming out of rough patches can be traumatizing and disheartening, but as you’re noticing, things are slowly coming together better than ever. So congrats are in order, you beautiful and terrifying manipulators. Please don’t key my car.
Witty and thoughtful. These next two months bring a lot of opportunities for change. Try not to fly too close to the sun, your wings might melt. With that being said have fun when you go out, but don’t drink too much, you might say something that will be held over your head for weeks to come. Just like last time, and the time before. Remember to drink some water.
The secret sociopath! But still a good time! Go crazy, go wild! Not too crazy though, we don’t want to see you on the Galveston Island Crime Watch Facebook page. There might be an opportunity for you to make some new friends. You might feel as if your old ones aren’t cutting it. Don’t worry, Capricorn, you’ll find out who your real friends are when you go out and drink with them. If they can’t have you at your worst, they shouldn’t have you at your best.
Go with the flow! When the moon is in the Seventh House and Jupiter aligns with Mars, then peace will guide the planets And love will steer the stars. Nah, just kidding. Your personal projects are coming through and you will get shit done. These are months to capitalize on your success. So grab some friends, drink like fish, and celebrate. Let the sunshine in!
Pisces, this is the best time in your life to be arrested for public indecency. Nah, I’m messing with you. This first half of the year you felt lazy and sluggish, this won’t be happening for the next half. Opportunities will open and present themselves in front of you, don’t be shy to be selective, the right one will call your name. Don’t be afraid to say no, stay in, and have a beer. But if you do decide to go out, make sure you bring an extra set of clean clothes, you secretly freaky wonderful people.
Insecurities and small bumps have been plaguing your life recently. But don’t let your mistakes or trivial accidents hinder your outlook on life, you’re almost home free. When you go out tonight, party like you’ve never partied before, you might meet somebody who will change your life.
Often the opinionated and strong, you’ve been doing a lot of selfreflection. With self-reflection comes doubt, and with doubt come depression. I say avoid the alcohol, light yourself a joint, surround yourself with good friends, and accept the love, self-love, (no, I’m not talking about onanism) that you’ve so often been pushing away.
You people shouldn’t even be within a twomile radius of an alcoholic drink. Don’t you have that personal project you’re supposed to be working on?
July - Aug. 2022 Calendar of Events
July pulse
BEATS ON THE BEACH
Every Sat, July 2nd - Aug 6th
6pm-10pm
Moody Gardens Palm Beach
1 Hope Blvd Galveston, Tx
Prices Vary Adult $30-$40 moodygardens.com
LA IZQUIERDA “SAVE THE LOCALS” CONCERT SERIES
Every Thurs, July 7th - July 28th, 6pm
Menard Park
2222 28th St. Galveston, Tx
Public Event facebook.com/laizquierdafest
4TH OF JULY DRONE SHOW OVER THE GULF
Mon, July 4th, 9pm and 10:30pm
37th Street Groin
37th and Seawall, Galveston, Tx
Free Admission visitgalveston.com
MUSIC NITE ON THE STRAND HARD LUCK REVIVAL
Sat, July 9th, 6pm
Saengerfest Park
2302 The Strand, Galveston, Tx
Public Event
facebook.com/SaengerfestPark
JOHN CALVIN ABNEY W/ BRYON WHITE & SPECIAL GUEST BRIGHTWIRE LIVE
Wed, Aug 3rd, 7:30pm
Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe
413 20th St. Galveston, Tx
$20 tickets (All Ages) +$5 at the door oldquarteracousticcafe.com
ANNUAL AIA SANDCASTLE COMPETITION
Sat, Aug 20th, 10am East Beach
1923 Boddeker Road Galveston, Tx Public Event
To compete you must register aiahouston.org
ISLAND RIDEOUT AND BIKE EXPO
Fri, Aug 26th - Sun, Aug 28th
Moody Gardens
1 Hope Blvd, Galveston, Tx
Pre Registration Required for Saturday Ride Friday and Sunday Free Islandrideout.com
WANT YOUR EVENT LISTED?
Email Us: CultureClashGalveston@gmail.com
ECLIPSE” BY ADAM HESSE
NIGHTFALL PORTER
Publishers Pick!
5.3% ABV 24 IBU Dark malts dominate this robust porter with strong chocolate and coffee notes. Sit back and gaze at the stars while savoring this easy-drinking dark ale.
Galveston Island Brewing 8423 Stewart Rd
people of GALVESTON
In honor of the night life, Culture Clash asked professionals who specifically work at night, “What is the craziest night on the job you can remember?”
Name: Angela Crumpet
Profession: ER Nurse
I cannot repeat my craziest nigh as an ER nurse as some of those memories are too painful to discuss. I can discuss one of the funniest memories I have. Two gangbangers were shooting at each other and one got hit in the leg. The bullet went through the tissue and blew off one of the guy’s testicles. Although I know it was painful, I assure you he wasn’t on his way to Sunday service.
Name: Jackson M Graves
Profession: EMT-B
Galveston’s nightlife leaves no shortage of things to do for first responders here on the island.
The craziest night shift I’ve had was during Biker Week. Events involving alcohol and automobiles/motorcycles is never a great mix.
The worst I had was a patient that flew about 15-20 feet after hitting their motorcycle on a car. Nothing grossly traumatic about how they presented surprisingly, thanks to their helmet.
Then about an hour later responding to an assault. Then immediately after that going to another motor vehicle accident!
I think a lot of it stems from thinking of fun over safety, which is a mindset I’d like to see change in the next coming events.
More Than Lunch Events & Parties at
EATcetera transforms nightly to accommodate private events. The perfect island spot for:
