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Boy dating seattle

(At the time, I was dating a girl who lived in Seattle—even racier.

I waved at all the people on the sidewalk, hoping they didn't realize I was high on gasoline.

They sometimes hired additional help: an ex-con named Tony who lived in a halfway house, a 25-year-old stoner named Eric who still lived with his parents.

As a teenager, I liked being around ex-cons and stoners and always fell for the racy girls who took drugs and skipped class.

They were distant and foreign, people whose lives I couldn't imagine. I walked into the woods, sat on a soft bed of brown needles at the bottom of a cedar tree, and unscrewed the lid. I felt the thick fumes reaching like tentacles down my throat and into my stomach. The tree became sentient and uprooted itself, and then fell over, grew four legs, and invited me onto its back.