Word: tinfoiled
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Bangkok hut, Jacky leans her bare back against the plank wall, her dragon tattoos glistening with sweat as she trims her fingernails with a straight razor. It has been two days--no, three--without sleep, sitting in this hut and smoking the little pink speed tablets from sheets of tinfoil stripped from Krong Tip cigarette packets. Now, as the flushes of artificial energy recede and the realization surfaces that there's no more money anywhere in her hut, Jacky is crashing hard, and she hates everyone and everything. Especially Bing. She hates that sponging little punk for all the tablets...
...Bangkok hut, Jacky leans her bare back against the plank wall, her dragon tattoos glistening with sweat as she trims her fingernails with a straight razor. It has been two days?no, three?without sleep, sitting in this hut and smoking the little pink speed tablets off sheets of tinfoil stripped from Krong Tip cigarette packets. Now, as the flushes of artificial energy recede and the realization surfaces that there's no more money anywhere in this hut, Jacky is crashing hard and she hates everyone and everything. Especially Bing. She hates that sponging little punk...
...During the early '90s, I went through a period when I was smoking shabu with a group of friends in Tokyo. I inhaled the smoke from smoothed-out tinfoil sheets folded in two, holding a lighter beneath the foil so that the shards of shabu liquefied, turning to a thick, pungent, milky vapor. The smoke tasted like a mixture of turpentine and model glue; to this day I can't smell paint thinner without thinking of smoking speed...
...Jacky's hut, Bing and a few bar girls are seated with their legs folded under them, taking hits from the sheets of tinfoil. As Jacky applies a thick layer of foundation makeup to her face, and then dabs on retouching cream and then a coating of powder, she talks about how tonight she has to find a customer; she needs to make a thousand baht. She'll work the dance floor at Angel's and, if she can't pick up a foreigner, she'll try Thermae, a sleazy after-hours joint and the evening's last resort...
...Bing's mother, Yee, slips off her sandals as she steps into the hut, clutching her 14-month-old baby. She sits down next to her son and while the baby scrambles to crawl from her lap, she begins pulling the paper backing from a piece of tinfoil, readying the foil for a smoke. Her hands are a whir of finger-flashing activity?assembling and disassembling a lighter, unclogging the pipe, unwrapping the tablets, straightening the foil, lighting the speed and then taking the hit. She exhales finally, blowing smoke just over her baby's face. Bing asks his mother...