Urban Metropolis

A Mercedes symbol four stories high, right next to a place that calls itself Leather Land. Women in expensive silk are whipping by in jacked-up Ford Ranger 4x4 pickups. A green field full of grass offers a bit of color to the tedious surroundings. The backsides of walls speak of young men caught up in a family so tight, the only way out is death; their symbols and names represented in colorful sprays made into true urban pieces of art. Illegal, but yet so amazing. It's all so close, so immediate. The toll plazas try to be cozy. They are made of wood and have shake roofs. The Hilton. The Galleria with its Westin Hotel, featuring barrel tops centered on circular windows. And Macy's. And parking garages matching the curve of a ramp as it swirls around like the trail of a jet fighter on the attack. Dark brown marble facades, meant to suggest not just wealth, but old European wealth. Stop and Go Fax Send and Receive Service. More homes right up against the elevated freeway. Gold-bronze-pink windows. Something called the Grand Kempinski with the Grand Kempi's nightclub. Crystal Wood Town Center, Neiman Marcus, Lord & Taylor, J.C. Penny. A roll of curved horizontal glass off an office slab in a series of waves exactly repeated by a roll of water falling beneath it. Steel towers carrying power, ah yes, power. "A billboard: MAKE YOUR NEXT DATE A TWO-BAGGER. Two people pictured, each with potato chip bag over head. Billboard: SO MANY MESSAGES, SUCH LITTLE TIME, METRO CELL CELLULAR. Billboard: PICK UP THE PHONE INSTEAD OF THE PIECES. FIRST STEP CRISIS PREVENTION CENTER" (Garreau). Our eyes are not free from influence in this corporate metropolis. Exposed over and over to advertising so continuously that our actions are of brainwashed consumers. Originality does not exist in this wilderness. The mark of one's individuality is simply the will of five men in suits and ties sitting behind their desks high up on the thirty second floor of that giant sky-rise just to your left.