As above: shoooting up heoroin or the like. Called so because a session will leave a dark linear mark (known as a "track") at the site of the affected vein. Harcore users will tend to have multiple sites of injection and will locate, or "spot" an optimum vein - one with minimal "tracks" and discomfort or infection. A hit can be analogous to the impactof a locomotive or train.
That's how I figure it anyway.

Watch the damn movie. It rocks. try reading the book - the narration is spelled with a scotish accent all the way through.

trainspotting by lear February 3, 2004

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Trainspotting

Observing trains and logging the numbers. Generally involves standing around in bad weather, watching the tracks. A British hobby.

Oi! Me and Tommy are going to head down to the station and do a bit of trainspotting! It looks a bit rainy, so bring an anorak!

Trainspotting by </time> September 14, 2003

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trainspotter

A person who can sucessfully identify obscure music a DJ plays. A hardcore trainspotter can take it a step further and identify the source of obscure samples.

Trainspotter: "Thats track B off of the first pressing of So and So record"
Friend: "You're such a trainspotter."

trainspotter by ryan ill December 17, 2004

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trainspotting

An incredible movie that will blow your mind. I'm not allowed to put the entire quote into the "example", so I'll put the first half into the definition section. Too many "choose"s, apparently.

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.

Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future. Choose life. …But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got heroin?

trainspotting by Sonya Renton June 28, 2005

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