Rich Man Poor Man

The journey through the ancient land of Japan can be traced back to one early call—a leap of faith reaching deep and far for the stars that initiated an understanding of the material world—Material Sludge, if you will, or, in neo-game theory, a volatile often hostile environment known as—The Fray.

In his final act, the tutelary deity of Kizuna Jinja ran an art gallery, providing for his family—as any deity worthy of veneration reflected in the continuation of his journey—honoring his sublime, majestic material energy, and his deeply humanist natural being.At the tail end of the frothy boom years of Showa Era Japan, the coffers were replete, yet the walls of the commercial halls lay barren and bleak—"Let us bring the joy of limited edition wilderness art—to touch the hearts of the overworked, frazzled Japanese."

Through the skill acquisition of constant rejection, this Incidental Occxie found himself in the ice-cold call-dialing zone—where Yellow Pages once existed—practical Japanese language skills were inevitably honed.

The number game proves true in this frame, as a happenstance General Manager turned up at the rich man's firm—an event that led to a plethora of unlikely circumstances, culminating in a surreal journey to an esoteric realm of the deep unknown.Here is a practical protocol that should be widely known to all—if you don't ask, the answer is always "no."

Therefore, asked to tag along to play in the Nagano snow, snowmobiling around with the rich man and his staff, including the aforementioned English-speaking bucho.

Perhaps it was naïve to assume that a man of this socially worshipped status—although physically, he could well be referred to as "chibiko" in Japanese—would at least understand the meaning of reciprocity.

Called in as a sakura by the rich man himself—a favor to stoke and promote his newly listed TSE stock exchange symbol—AHO.

The scene—the great hall of Meiji Jingu—a fitting venue for the general assembly.The yearly ritual of staid formality, so beloved by the Japanese, resembled a rubber stamp festival, with a scripted performance in the surreal setting of this Emperor Meiji's phantasmagorical, hallowed hall movie scene.

The ruse was set, as the request was met for one question, creating quite the buzz—for most Japanese shareholders of this rental company believed the Incidental Occxie was a representative of NASDAQ—constructed realities fitting a convenient narrative of a materialistic theme.

Decades passed as life unfolded on different paths, yet curiosity got the better of me, so I called up the rich man's personal secretary to reminisce after so many years.

Immediately, it was plain to see—he had lost his humanity.

Bluntly stated, "No deals below 100 million yen" was the crux of the entire conversation—he could see only money, not me—a certain sign of mediocrity.The consequence of hardcore materialistic display in vainglory—a couple of floors in the great metropolis, high above the proletarian construction zone—a museum, if he must, and his personal bronze bust, usually reserved for the dearly departed, seemed farcical—the maraschino cherry on top of his grandiose theme.

The enlightenment became crystal clear—the rich man was also a poor man within the same skin—representative of a commonplace Bubble Era theme—a tale, a fable of materialist reality, and how the materialist avatars regard other sentient beings.