But what a time I had, pulling the one strip that was fit to use from the desk (currently a ziplock bag in my rucksack) from among the piles of unuseables (too soppy, too snide, too scruffy, too depressing, too personal, too heartfelt, too rude...) including, alas, the strip about V for Vendetta (yes, I've seen the movie, and yes, it's great) which failed on bleakness, confidential personal history, awkward flow and problems with the ink spreading (serve me right for using the pretty sanguine sandalwood-scented stuff).
But, yes, to return to the subject matter. I've always had a lot of time for artists who destroy their works. It shows powerful confidence -- that you can make more, that they will be better. For me, the compulsive doodler, it's more a matter of practicality: I simply can't keep everything. Although I usually opt for the more prosaic, less polluting, black plastic bag.
Ah, there's some corner of an English landfill that is forever Jeremy Dennis.