Camera Club (1980)

Oh hell yeah I took this picture!
I took the shit out of it!
Horses.
Fuckin-A!
Fifteen-fuckin'-years-old and my dad gets me and my brother each an OM-1 for our birthdays* and then starts a fuckin' camera club**. 

Bam!
There we are at the auto show pretending to be interested in what he's interested in.
With film.
That was our first outing,

or field trip,

or away mission,

or whatever.
No.
Wait,
he called 'em "photo-safaris".
No shit.
And he dressed for it, too.
He was one safari-jacket wearin' motherfucker.
Khaki utility attire!

Yes! 
Even had a mesh pith helmet.
Total pacifist, mind you.
Would never go near a gun but somehow harbored the impulse to play the Great White Hunter.

My mom would say,

real low so he couldn't hear,

"Napoleonic complex."

But I digress.

Our second "photo-safari" was out to the desert somewhere,
or the mountains...
something naturey 'cause, you know, all the great photographers take pictures of nature.
"Everyone knows that!
There's,
for instance,
okay,
what's that guy?
Oh!

Okay,
there's Ansell Adams,
there's...
there's...
okay, he's all I can think of right now but you know there's a lotta great photographers making a good living shooting for National Geographic!"

Yeah, National G. 

That was the standard. 

That's what we were all supposed to be shooting for*** and look at me! 

Check out those horses!

Fifteen-fuckin'-years-old and I came pretty goddmn close with the almighty OM-1!
Hellz yeah!

*No, I am not a twin.

**Trey remembers.

***NPI