We'll see how well this works. My laptop is broken, and I'm sitting in the New York New York casino, in the shopping area. At a little table with a pizza design painted on top. I'm sitting under a fake tree, surrounded by fake streets. Above the storefronts are the illusions of second and third story windows. It's all fake, but still very convincing. I half expect to get mugged.

What was I getting at?

Oh, yeah.

This place certainly has style, but there's no real substance behind it. Concrete and cold steel. Plaster and paint. Break through these facades and the illusion is revealed.

I had a conversation last night. At least it started out as a conversation. It ended up being more of a sermon, or an impassioned plea for understanding.

The things that you read, the things that I write, they're not fiction. I am not a storyteller. I'm not even much of a writer most of the time.

My writings describe my thoughts and my feelings and my life. Strip away the facades of flowing phrases and you really lose nothing. What you're left with may not be as refined, but it's no less real. Hell, it might even be more real.

The point I need to make is that it's often too easy for people to have a disconnect between the words that they read and the people and events behind those words. I see this reflected all the time in the comments and emails I get. People complimenting me in something I've written.

But the thing is, I'm am not an actor performing in a play. This is my life. These events are real. And beyond that, they're happening right now. This is not an historical account of my life that you're reading. It's a play-by-play description.

So, if I write about pain, then I'm hurting.

If I write about confusion, then I'm confused.

And if I write about being in love, then I'm in love.

Just not with you.