Yesterday, after meeting with a client in Morningside Heights, I decided to stop by Butler Library. Since I had lost my student ID a while back, I needed to apply for an alumni library pass, which cost me five bucks. Now I can roam the halls of Butler again and assume my familiar hunched-over posture on uncomfortable seats in the Reading Room. I feel productive here and compelled to get things done.

I’m back here again today after a visit to a printing shop downtown this morning with Wook. Since the Internet isn’t working at home, I thought I’d come back up here to get work done. What’s helped with my portability is my new red North Face backpack, which replaced my worn out olive North Face backpack of six years. I don’t think I’ve gotten as much mileage out of anything else – my laptop probably comes in at a distant second place of four years. With all sorts of side zippers and compartments inside the bag for iPod, pens, and other items, my new backpack operates as an office of its own. I really like it, although I wish it didn’t have “BIG SHOT” stitched on the back – a hiking slang word or mountain name would have been preferred.

So sitting here and trying not to procrastinate, I found myself wasting time on Bored@Butler, a nifty anonymous posting board where people who’re in Butler can sound off about anything. As you can guess, most of the talk is about sex – “someone somewhere is having sex right now”, “i wish someone would lick me all over”, “Chem makes me soooo Horny……”, “could use a ckbg bj right now”, etc. I didn’t know what CKBG stood for, but someone noted a few posts later that it was Cute Kinky Barnard Girl. I thought that was clever. It seems like the discourse is shifting towards thoughts on Obama right now…

Valentine’s Day Dinner with Melanie tonight at Ovelia, a newly opened Greek seafood joint a few avenues up from our apartment. Melanie actually went there last week with her cousin, but since it’s close and convenient (especially in this dreadful weather), we thought it’d be a solid choice. I’m almost done with Paul Auster’s Moon Palace, a very quick and thrilling read, and it’s the only novel of his I’ve read so far that has a prominent Asian female character. Her name is Kitty Wu and she’s made out to be a really pretty, smart, and sexy girl – a ballet dancer at Juilliard who dons on a tight chipao to excite her white boyfriend. I don’t think Auster exoticizes her in a way that’s offensive, but I thought it was funny that she wore a chipao since that reminds me of women at Asian massage parlors, not that I’d know anything about such women or such places. Anyway, I only mention this because I sometimes call Melanie a “kitty,” but now I’ve started saying “Kitty Lee” and encouraging her to buy a chipao. She rolls her eyes or ignores me.

I’ve been itching to write a Valentine’s Day short story for the past few days, but since the day is already here, I guess I’ll broaden it into a normal heartbreak/could’ve-would’ve-should’ve romance story later on this week. I opened a fortune cookie today at Sammy’s Noodle Shop and it said, “You’re going to get lucky tonight.” Maybe Melanie will pick up the tab. Happy Valentine’s Day!

I spent a considerable amount of time tonight editing my MySpace profile after a bit of prodding from John Jung. It’s nothing to be proud of. In fact, I should probably be ashamed. But so many people use it and it’s been hailed as such an effective marketing tool, especially for indie artists, so I thought, why not — maybe there’s a thing or two to be learned from the experience.

The address is http://www.myspace.com/pete3483, in case you’re wondering.

It’s pretty much a self-promotional booth in the form of a webpage profile. I rehased a part of my bio from peterkang.com for the About Me section and added as many links as possible to my various sites along the side. There’s a certain feeling of guilt in a profile-building exercise – sort of like the feeling you get when you spend too much time in front of the mirror giving each part of your face too much attention. I felt especially vain when I selected the photos that would be uploaded, carefully adjusting the lighting and colors in Photoshop before sending up for public consumption.

I added John Mayer as a friend. I must be his two hundred fifth thousand something-eth friend. He’s my third.

I think I will use the blog feature of MySpace as a dumping ground for edited versions of my The Elusive Hope project from last year. I doubt the posts will become hot reading material, but among the millions who randomly browse through strangers’ profiles while picking up on many useless tidbits of info, there’s probably a chance that a handful of people will stumble upon these entries and maybe even take the time to read through. Yes, the ultimate self-promotional tool, the cauldron of vanities, and a not-so-discreet way to say “stalk me please.” Speaking of which, add me as a friend if you use MySpace, too.