Bear with me here. It's a big, messy universe - the cosmic equivalent of a hot pressed sandwich on Texas toast, with two slices too many of that cheese whose name you can't pronounce, and all the vegetables you can count off on two hands, just drenched in those obtuse condiments we all love. A lot of this little experiment will stem from my belief that, in the past fifteen odd years, we've gotten hollandaise sauce all over our shirts.
A lot of it might not make sense.
But that's a risk I'm willing to take. I've got too many thoughts to let rust and take up precious hard-drive space in this brain of mine. So, like the rest of the civilized world, I've turned to Google to solve my problems. I'm not making any promises on the way.
Perhaps what you can expect are my musings (hence the title) on a sundry lot of topics ranging from music to graduate school to 19th century French poetry to those age old topics of debate like politics, religion, and of course, this lovely bloated culture of ours. Just a warning: my updates will be anything but regular, and my viewpoints may not always please you. Feel free to comment, but be polite. I'm moving to Canada soon, and I really need to brush up on my courteousness.
Okay, I'm done prefacing. Without further ado, I present you this big boat of cogitation, which I christen The Polluted Muse.
