Tonight as I waited in line with a girlfriend at my neighborhood Starbucks, I watched a haggard-looking man outside one window - after violently waving to capture the attention the two nearest patrons - perform fellatio on what appeared to be a rather substantial bottle of prescription pills.

The frequency of tragic-yet-amusing displays such as this can only make one wonder what exactly it is that draws this city's millions of devout residents.

Fortunately this level of exposure, if you will, to one's surroundings works in other ways. At any given time there are myriad cultural experiences to be had. Be it a jazz saxophonist on the subway platform, a sketch artist in central park, a woman dressed head to toe in Roberto Cavalli, or a Zabar's employee marveling at the most exquisite cut of Sturgeon, the citizens of New York create a melting pot not only of ethnicity, but of cultural ideals.

Since my official move to the city I have become, at times, overwhelmed by the wealth of theatre, music, food, art, fashion, and literature surrounding me. And the need to muse on this cultural affluence - the need to publicly acknowledge it, exalt it, or even dismiss it - makes the idea of starting a blog decidedly cooler than it was in high school.