American Gothic

I am starting to get very frustrated about my writing block.
There was a time when I could just start writing, about anything, you know, anything, and eventually a post would appear.

There was a time where I could just pick someone out of my past and just start writing about him. Like the kid who lived on the next street over, the red headed kid with freckles and glasses who was a year older than me.
I think his name was Grant Wood, but isn't that the artist's name?
Anyway, his last name was Wood, I am sure of that, and he lived the next street over from me, the street that our elementary school was on.
Grant, ok, let's call him Grant even though I'm not 100% sure that was his name. Grant was a sickly kid, his parents had him later in life, and maybe that had something to do with it, but yeah, he was sickly, ok, yeah, he had a bad heart.

After school one day, I think it was the spring of the year, the weather was mild, actually it was warm, and Greg and Ronnie, and I were goofing around down in Ronnie's back yard when we heard a siren then saw an ambulance speed by.
The ambulance stopped the next street over from where we lived, you know, the street where Grant(?) lived, the street where our elementary school was located.

The three of us ran over to the next street, the street where Grant Wood lived, and the street where our elementary school was located, and we got there just as the fireman were lowering a stretcher from the roof of the school.

We didn't know what the fuck was going on. I started looking around and saw my friend Toots, who lived on the next street over, next door to Grant Wood, on the street where are elementary school was located.

Toots told me that Grant Wood, the kid who lived next door to him, on the next street over, the street where our elementary school was located, had climbed up on the roof of the elementary school to retrieve a ball, had a heart attack and died.

Then we all pretended for about a half hour that we had really liked Grant Wood, and that he had been a cool guy, even though he wore glasses and had freckles, and he acted kind of girly, and then we all went home and had dinner, and watched television, and took a bath, and then went to bed, all of us except for Grant Wood.

So yeah, I used to be able to do that.
Just start out writing, and eventually come up with a post.
I just can't do that anymore.