Does a dog have Buddha nature? Woof!

Sitting in a mobile home high and with low light on the pad in the floor, on the floor, the purple room with the flowers on the wall and the large closet for a lady's clothes and the vanity mirror is dirty and the rats still need to be excommunicated from the holy roman ceiling and if the hole in the dining room gets dug into for the root cellar and the floor is framed again and the rocket stove with the cob bench warming the living room all gets set up, and if the roof and the sunroom and the roof in the sunroom are all fixed and adjusted and that green house is built on the side and all that is done and the kitchen between the two shipping crates on the other side gets roofed in by the roof from the fallen down 80-year-old barn, roofed on in between the gap for between the shipping containers and then an outdoor stove and kitchen sitting area for nice days and cold days is constructed and piped up, then perhaps this will be a good place to sit and type of all the ways and the schemes and recycled materials and shitty tools and the internet research and waiting on someone with money to buy the supplies and to make the decisions while we sit in joint-smoked rooms on the unclean floor on some pads and a sleeping bag with our typewriters writing about how weird and uncomfortable the houses of other people's families can be when the family is mormon with traces of mormonism hanging around and a baby and the mother talking about moving to the big toilette and poo poo while you are just trying to eat some broccoli and macaroni and cheese and cabbage salad with all of the hot items from the Astoria Children's Center sit crammed around you and you want to choose the level of squalor that isn't filled with humanity.

A room devoid of humanity: the only place to write.