OK, thing is: Too much moderation is a bore.
Looking back over it all, I really would have to say that the patterned times are the best, when you jazz the world and it comes right back for more.
There’s a great feeling of unity with the pattern, a feeling of stability and peace that is quite different from the feel of merely doing a good job.
It’s like the world approves of you, you know, like it hears your jazz and digs it. You’re really part of something bigger than yourself.
So no, I don’t regret my excesses. If I just played the good neuron all the time—professional critic, detached esthete—I’d never have felt the unity; that would be the regret.
A pattern found is worth cherishing, even though it will fade. The pain of its loss, too, will fade.
I am a neuron, a brain cell; patterns I find much too rich ever to lose completely even if I tried. Each in its time, inevitable lingering traces, small essences accumulating. No vicious circle but maybe a wandering spiral, here dizzy climb, there agonizing turn.
Maybe the real Pattern, you know, is me. I have the same Pattern of Change, over and over.
Hey I like that. I’d jazz it, but it isn’t that sort of pattern. It isn’t out in the world of feels and jazz. It’s just in me; I do what comes naturally, and I go around the cycle.
Maybe that’s how I “jazz” this pattern. Hmm yes: I just do what I do and then the pattern does just what The Pattern is supposed to do—it keeps happening.
I am content to regard myself as a good neuron, as a once and future great and terrible neuron.