I have the curse of hundreds of unfinished pieces over 20 years sitting all over dusty disconnected hard drives. And some going mouldy on 3.5" atari st cubase disks.

there are even tascam C90s in wine boxes in the attic with ‘works of wonder’ on them.

When I die, I hope some curator trawls through my estate of musical ramblings, is astounded at their brilliance and issues them into a classy format like this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Exegesis_of_Philip_K._Dick

maybe I’ll be posthumously remixed and like James Joyce, be brought to life, appreciation and acclaim far beyond the expectations of my mortal noodlings.

or maybe I’ll just continue to record 12 bar epics in my own little world when I have my rare moments of zen, with the kids asleep in bed and the red wine is at the perfect temperature; save them for some other time and wait for the next peaceful moment where I start all over again.