Re-Inventing the Universe

I'm thinking in blogs lately. I am processing my life in short segments of non-fiction, free-flow themes that state questions and are never answered. In two weeks I begin another term of school and I am beginning to understand myself enough to know that because I am taking a fiction course I will begin to process life through story instead.
I have become narcissistic in my learning. When I read about post modernism, the Atomic bomb and the general shift from binary logic to relativism I think, "Yeah, I hear you post modernism. That bomb fell and everything has gone to hell".
I love "Slaughterhouse Five" because of two lines in the book - "So they were trying to re-invent themselves and their universe. Science fiction was a big help." I'm trying to re-invent myself and my universe. Writing is a big help.
When I was in Bolivia last summer I bumped down a dusty dirt road along a river and saw in the yellow grass the shining brown arms of a man as he slowly moved up and down over the woman beneath him. The careful precision with which he moved made me want to cry. A few blocks later I saw two dogs mating in the street, with a third waiting its turn. I laughed out loud at the art of real life, staring me in the face. I couldn't help but write a story about it.
This universe is not what I thought it was. It's so much more dangerous than I guessed. Bombs drop and the skin melts off of your face like wax in a flame. I can't help but wonder if this is the Refiner's fire that we so blithely ask God for. Why the hell are we singing about being burnt up? Who wrote these songs? These are truths that should only be whispered around campfires, told in hushed tones by lone survivors. They are stories of skin crackling and splitting, fat popping in the heat and the smell of burning hair, of flame that mercifully cooled or would have consumed all. They are stories of clean, white bones, lying in the ash, waiting for the breath that will make them live again, to be re-invented, to get up and find their way in the universe, vulnerable in their nakedness but familiar with heat.