The grind(coffee?)

We have convinced ourselves this is the normal way to live, but there are siestas, and beyond, elsewhere. My cramped window shows me that there is more out there, but the vocation has drained too heavily for me to go out and enjoy it. To some extent, the job will always have all of me if it takes my time, takes its toll. What's the percentage work/life balance break down on that? Nevermind, don't think of that. Don't think of anything in fact. The more you wonder why it is to be this way, the sooner you escape the machine, and no one wants that. To leave it all, in the RV, New Mexico, maybe old Mexico, switch from frantic coffee to vibe tea. This would surely end the relationship hardship we've been experiencing, since we got together, day 1. My ex actually gave me this typewriter, and many other things. I sold it when times were tough, and then managed to buy it back. I like old discarded things the world would consider useless; everyone's forgotten everything, as if we can stand alone as a new form of species, humanidy, nothing to learn from anyone else. Regardless, my writing is all I can muster these days, but it's something, as there must always be an outlet; for no matter how we spend our days, we will still always be contained to our own self, a singular life of earthly limitations. Thus, our imagination, our thoughts, typed or not, ultimately provide us with the truest freedom possible. Now back to the grind!