Life Block

A life block should be something like 20 years.
Like the sort of thing that a 40 year old man is told - you've just become half dead.

Though at the rate we're going and with people surviving without sunlight and limited air in gaeas womb for over two months - the number 40 might soon become 55. The French will obviously protest the logical or the sensical in favor of government institutions that bear little resemblance to the needs of a changing world. I tested 90th percentile for openness hence my slight condescension. You'll excuse.

Life block would be as curable as the writing kind. A simple excercise like free-writing for 20 minutes would provide solutions. Picture 20 minutes of free living. Whatever that means it sounds exciting, like you might have to be a tree hugger or a really good faker to actually experience it. The kind of person that has a sherpa story in his repertoire but also cares little enough to only tell it if he's really high and wondering how he's avoiding getting messed down. Messed up is a lot more fun.

Or that we could write an acrostic poem with our life. Something where we wrote a one line pseudocoherent text for every year of our life. The first year would be a one word brilliance - "Gurggle". The second year we would have almost two words "Ma-ma". And so on and so forth increasing the number and complexity until we hit 13. At this point we'd settle for three letters - "nvm" or "w/e". A symbol. I know. Crazy. Then, evolution again until we hit the 18-22 sweet spot where people have no names but instead go by "dude, bro and bitch".

At 40 we'd have some elaborate sentence decoding the socioeconomical, political and cultural demise that our nations youth and government are bringing unto itself. At 60 we'd settle for being quiet and loosening our belt after meals. At 70 we'd make a remark "I remember the good old days". The news organization better known by a delicious food staple would tell us that happened a long time ago and won't ever happen again.

At a 87 we'd say "Who are you?"

At a 100 we'd be quiet.

We can't rid ourselves of this. This writer block. So I'm drinking tea (iced, slightly sweetened) and waiting for it to pass.

Buenas noches abuelita.