Full name: David Collin M.
Age: 27, as of today, the 27th of May, which means something, I've heard.
Location: 309 Andrews Hall, University of Nebraska-Lincoln
Occupation: I occupy my time with reading and writing; I get paid to teach college freshmen the latter.
Hobbies: Crosswords, cribbage.
Pets: Nary a one.

1: the heavy part
How in the hell did you wind up in Lincoln, Nebraska?
I applied to graduate schools in the fall of 2002, and wasted time at my office job browsing the Web for potential programs. I think I did a Yahoo! search or something, and came across UNL's Web site, and I realized that I had heard of Prairie Schooner, the literary journal we publish, as well as the University of Nebraska Press, which publishes it. So I figured there was probably a pretty good literary scene or focus going on here.

In the end, it was the only school that accepted me. And they gave me money to come. So I came. Then, recently--are you getting to this later?--the whole thing happened again when I applied to MFA programs. UNL was the only acceptance with funding, and so now I'm getting a PhD instead of a lousy MFA.

How do you like it there?
With difficulty. Lincoln is in many regards an astoundingly small and small-minded city, and in other regards a fantastically intimate and low-key city. It's a city of irritants rubbing right up alongside bonuses. Par example: There are fewer than a half-dozen bars worth hanging out in, but each is within a block of the other. We have an art-/foreign-film theater, but we usually end up getting films right around the time they're released on DVD. Also the dating pool seems very tiny, but then sometimes I go new places and find a roomful of faces I haven't seen before, some of which are great to look at.

Has grad school been like you imagined?
It has, mostly. What I knew of graduate school I knew from visiting my pal Clay, who recently earned his PhD in mathematics from the University of Texas at Austin. I knew that he had a very relaxed life, though filled most days with pretty intense study, or at least study on pretty intense material. I knew he had summers off, often with grants or fellowships. I knew that he made money by teaching undergraduates things he knew a lot about. I knew that most of his friends were other PhD students in his department, and that they spent most of their time together drinking, usually outdoors, as Austin is a town conducive to that sort of thing. My experience over the past two years has lined up with all this almost point for point, except that whereas Clay and his pals would talk over beers mostly about professors in the department, my friends and I often end up talking about, well, ourselves, to be honest, and also published writers we like and don't like. Usually the latter.

How has your writing changed since you started?
When I came here I thought writing something good and lasting was a matter of getting the language perfect, such that a good story's sentences comprised nice, exact words in such harmonic order that the reader was left wowed on every page. I thought it was all acrobatics and aesthetics. Since then, I've read and written a lot more, and I know this is absolutely not enough, and that in a time of complete injustice in just about every corner of the world (to say nothing of our own backyards) going about one's work in a vacuum, or under the auspices of "art for art's sake" is to be pretty irresponsible. This is not to say that I've now started writing stories with a clear moral center, or stories in which plots are moved forward and resolved by characters making moral choices, or acting and then taking responsibility or suffering consequences for those actions. It's just to say that I've learned that reading is such an arcane activity these days, done by comparatively few people, that providing mere aesthetic mastery or entertainment isn't enough. Because writing, particular fiction writing, can effect change, I just think it should. I think we should always keep trying to say more than what's on the page. I'm trying, at least.

Some of us like to fantasize that we'd write more if we relocated to a small, isolated, Midwestern town. Are we deluding ourselves?
You might be. Here's a quick story. My pal Miki (to whom I can probably give total credit for encouraging me to start writing fiction) and I used to discuss graduate schools for writing, and we both had a disdain for Iowa. "Iowa? Who the F wants to go live in Iowa?" I'd say. "Right," she'd say. "And of course it's the best school in the country. They have nothing else to do out there but write." Snickers and guffaws would then follow. But there is this notion that the Midwest is a region without distractions, unlike the coasts. But this isn't entirely true, particularly in the cities. We have distractions, just fewer. So personally, I've written more in two years here than I ever had my whole life combined. But I'm in a writing program, which is a rather cushy place to find myself, and if I were in a writing program in, say, San Francisco--provided I could live as soundly, economics-wise, as I do here--I imagine I'd be producing at the same level. And then on the other side of the coin, if I moved from Pittsburgh to, say, Lincoln without entering a writing program, and instead getting a M-F/9-5, I'd probably be as unproductive as I was in Pittsburgh.

How have you changed since you started?
Is this the part of the interview where you want me to mention that I've come out since the last interview you published? Okay: I came out last year, about the process and timing of which the less said the better. So what's changed as a result of that is, like, a revamping of how I go about understanding myself. Ugh. I always get a queasy stomach when it comes to grappling with identity issues because it always seems to fall on the side of self-obsession. But to finally come to the conclusion, at age 25, that you're gay and no longer interested in pretending you're not, is to then start asking about a million questions. Question 1: What does that mean? Question 493,729: So what do I do now? Question 736,258: So what do I do now that I live in Lincoln? Etc.

Also: I now, after countless arguments with friends and family about their pointlessness and indulgent qualities, own a cell phone. I just used it right now between paragraphs. It vibrated on my desk, I looked at the number, I didn't recognize it, I let it vibrate to see if this person would leave a message, this person did, it was my pal Nathan. This may not seem like revolutionary behavior, but for me it's pretty crazy.

I also got rid of my TV, and, by extension, my VCR and DVD player and VHS tape collection. I still rent movies from Netflix, and watch them in bed, with earphones connected the laptop that rests on my belly, my belly which has decreased every so slightly in size since starting graduate school, thanks mostly to the walking and working out I do now.

Right and I'm vegetarian now, though I eat fish. Nothing more to say about this change.

How have you stayed the same?
Oh, politically, with the exception that I'm much mure in tune with, and interested in fighting for, gay rights. The things I do to enjoy myself haven't moved an inch. Popnirvana's readers may be happy to know that I remain a stunning six feet and one inch tall.

Teaching – worthwhile? Why?
Are you kidding? Absolutely and yes. Even though pay scales vary wildly, I don't think there's a culture on the planet that doesn't value teaching, whether it's what a parent teaches his child or what some god teaches the culture that chooses to worship it. I owe so much of what I am and what I know from the many people who taught it to me, and I think you'd say the same thing. Now I imagine you were thinking on a smaller level for this question, like: have I found teaching in an academic setting worthwhile? And I'll still say yes. It's a relatively easy job in terms of the hours and the workload, but it's a very difficult job to do well, and when you consider that what's at stake when the job is done poorly isn't something as paltry as profits or whatever, but rather an actual person's potential for learning and growth, the pressure to do the job well gets very high. And so I'm always challenged by the work, which is nice. And every now and then you get through to someone, and you reach into his head and turn the lightbulb on, and he just starts glowing. And then you do, by extension.

Teaching writing in particular is very worthwhile if you, like me, believe that writing is the only real way that human beings create meaning. And giving someone through instruction the ability to make her life mean something to her is a pretty incredible thing to do for someone. Plus it's great to sit down with a student and look at his paper and say, "Talking with you I can tell you have a real passion for your topic, but I'm not seeing any passion here on the page. What can you do to make me read this, and not only see your passion but also feel the same passion you do?" And then having done that, to see the next draft be filled with passionate writing, and then to hear from the student that he likes the essay more than anything he's ever written, oh it's just so fucking great.

What's the plan from here?
I'll make an agenda:
1) finish the novel I'm working on, get my story-collection manuscript in order, begin and then finish the book on taxidermy I'm working on...essentially go through the next 4-5 years of the PhD program getting three book manuscripts in order
2) teach a wide variety of composition, literature, and creative writing courses
3) graduate with a PhD and demand people call me Doctor
4) hope that my book manuscripts get me either a deal with a publisher or a job teaching at a university in a nice-sized city
5) throughout it all date wildly but safely and eventually find some beautiful and funny dude to move in with

Ideally, what will your life look like on New Year's Day 2006?
I have no idea how to go about answering this question. It's really only about seven months away. What all can happen in seven months? Ideally, my life will look very content in the pattern it's holding. To be in a 5-year PhD program is to know that on some level your life is on hold. I don't believe in the popularly held notion that academia isn't "the real world." I know from experience that it's as real (or unreal) as, like, an office job. But still, you're both student and teacher, in a sense, and there's always a future ahead where you'll no longer be student, where you'll be a member of the professoriat, and until then, you study and write and wait. So on 01.01.06, I'll be very comfortable in that holding pattern, and I'll ideally have someone to wake up next to who'll help make me as happy as I hope to be.

So you're still driving that blue Sunbird around?
Well, glad you asked this one. I took the thing to the mechanic around the corner from my house Monday morning because it had begun to shut down on me when stopping for lights or what have you, after driving around for more than thirty minutes or so. My old Pontiac Grand Am did this back in 1995, prompting me (well, my folks) to buy the Sunbird. So I think it's dead, or at least dying. I've recently come into a small bit of money from my grandfather, and every day it looks as though that money will go directly toward a new (used) car. I suppose this is a blessing, though I don't much like that word. I've never bought a car before. It'll be nice to have one that's reliable.

2: the not-heavy part
Describe a good night out...
This is something else that hasn't changed since starting graduate school. I like long, marathon nights out. I like moving from one bar to another, and maybe another. I very much like your concept of the greaser, the drink that begins the evening, usually before dinner. So let's say I get a cocktail with some friends at a quiet place, and then we go eat Indian food. And then we go to some bars and have rousing conversations and lots of jukebox-domineering. Then, at closing time (which for you coastal types is 1am 'round these parts), we head back to my place or someone else's place for an intense and competitive game of charades.

And a good night in the apartment?
The best nights in the apartment are nights that I suddenly find myself feeling productive, and so I put on some music and maybe pour a drink and write a few pages. If I'm not feeling productive, my other favorite nights are when I get home and I know right away that I'm going to finish whatever book I've been reading, so I lay on the couch and submit myself to that for a few hours.

Current favorite ethnic food and, if possible, dish.
There's been a bit of a Tex-Mex revolution in my diet since moving here. I no longer hate beans, for example (and, it's possible, olives as well). So right now I'm going to go with a lunch favorite and say the Vegetarian Caribbean Burrito at Oso Burrito, which is a lot like Chipotle except it's owned locally and doesn't suck. The Caribbean business means it includes pineapple, which has for a long time been all my favorite fruit.

What have you been listening to?
Your mix CDs, thank you, and the mix CDs of other friends. Bandwise, 2005 has been filled with a lot of the new Low record, the Flaming Lips' Clouds Taste Metallic, and various great tracks I download from Salon.com. I suppose like most people, my music-listening practices are getting splintered and randomized. I was very heavily into Guided By Voices toward the end of 2004, and so they appear in my stereo from time to time.

Was hast you been reading?
First, I'd like to go on record as saying that I wish, the first time out, that I had thought of Chris Sullivan's brilliant "Ich habe been reading..." response to this question.

Recently IHBR mostly nonfiction, poetry, and plays, as I've started writing a novel and am worried that reading another will influence the writing of mine too much, at least until I'm near halfway into the project. Readers are invited to browse through the log of books read I keep here.

What have you been watching on TV?
Nothing. I don't, as I said, own a TV anymore. When I go do laundry I watch whatever's on. For a while I was timing my Laundromat visits with Spike TV's broadcast of WWE's Monday Night Raw. Then I stopped because I like to do laundry in the afternoons. Plus Randy Orton--who was really the only reason to watch, both for his pretty great performance and his fucking unbelievable hotness--"got injured," and I'm not quite sure when he's due to return.

Seen any movies lately? What did you think?
I saw Crash and I thought it was one of the most complex treatments of race I'd ever seen in a movie. I also saw Spider-Man 2 last week and I loved it. It prompted me to go back and continue reading the old comics, which I started when the first film came out.

3: the cocktail party
So you're having a cocktail party: list five A-list guests, other than Jesus, me and your friends...
In alphabetical order:

- Jodie Foster, so that I can have her read aloud the suite of poems I wrote inspired by her work.
- Eddie Guerrero of the WWE, because man what a champ. You know he parties like mad.
- Low, again to play a nice acoustic set, even though Alan Spearhawk is apparently not doing so well these days.
- Dale Peck, to cause some controversy and argue with my friends about all the books and writers they love, and then to go to bed with me at the end of the night.
- Zadie Smith because she's young and I bet a little wild. Oh and brilliant.

What drinks will you serve?
Red-wine spritzers and things in pitchers. Like a pitcher of martinis and a pitcher of beer margaritas.

What will be in the stereo?
I'd like to say something crafty, but if I'm being totally honest with myself and with you and with your readers, I'll just admit that I'll plug my laptop into the stereo and put on shuffle the songs therein. I mean, I wouldn't want to step on Low's toes when it comes to music.

Conversation topics will include...
There will be an informal recipe exchange. The celebrities in the room will dish to a rapt audience gossip about other celebrities they know. I'll maybe have a toddler or two on hand to keep the discussions in the PG/PG-13 range.

How will the evening end?
Well I'll be going to bed with Dale Peck, of course. Until then I don't give a damn what other people do, as long as everyone makes an honest effort to clean up after themselves, and leave snail-mail addresses so we can all become pen pals. This would be extraordinarily cheesy, but, in the end, probably quite nice.