Baltimore Party Photographer Dies at Age 33

[All photos credited to Erica Hinson Denny]

One week ago Erica Hinson Denny posted a photograph on her Flickr page entitled “Katie, Dooley.2.” It is an image of a woman staring into the camera lens, holding a clay puppet on a wooden stick. That description seems pretty lame. Seems mediocre. But, maybe, because Erica Hinson Denny took and posted this photograph, it would be considered an ideal image of a woman staring, holding a puppet on a stick.

The first time I saw Erica’s photography I was doing research in an attempt to perfect visual, hyper-stylized film aesthetics and found a series of party photographs on D.C.’s hipster blog/company website, Brightest Young Things. I immediately googled the credited photographer, Artfisch. Within fifteen minutes I found the Flickr and Facebook page of Erica Hinson Denny.

I spent Thanksgiving in the mountains of western Maryland. I didn’t have internet access on Wednesday or Thursday. On Friday, I opened my browser and logged on to Facebook at around 3pm. The first “Top News” Newsfeed post I saw contained “RIP” attached to a photograph with Artfisch’s “signature” multiple exposure photography style. I felt something like a sheet of fire sweep across my head. I began to sweat. The nerve endings on my skin began to sting. I felt involuntary muscle contractions. I clicked a link to Erica’s Facebook page and found her wall filled with lengthy posts that commemorated her personality, amicability, how people enjoyed spending time with her and how her work affected them.

I scrolled down and clicked “other posts” 5~7x. It seemed like a micro-famous person’s birthday. Every post had been submitted in the past three days. Most of them said “rest in peace.”

I stared at the “Write something” prompt on Erica’s facebook wall for roughly six minutes. I couldn’t think of one word that seemed adequate to begin a sentence that could convey how her work affected me.

Of the many party and fashion photographers I am familiar with, Artfisch was my favorite. Her hyper-stylized long and multiple exposure club photography is different from all others I have seen. For years it affected a vague feeling in me to want to be her, and a distinct feeling to want to be her friend, to see her at work and to be the subject of at least one of her photographs.

That isn’t possible anymore.

Today I felt something similar to how it felt to first see Dash Snow’s photography posthumously. But unlike Dash, who died of a drug overdose, and whose art was famous in his extensive New York City milieu and because of his wealthy family background, Artfisch died of a sudden asthma attack [a disorder she had been affected by all her life], was not famous outside of her few Baltimore, DC, and Pennsylvania cliques and was a wife and the mother of five children between ages fourteen and five, but her work was no less prolific, distinct or mesmerizing, to me.

In the underground art world authenticity and intent seems to be what garners intense admiration. Artfisch did not photoshop her images, a large number of them were simply photographs of herself after a new haircut, tattoo, or slight change due to age, but thousands of her images are on Flickr are of partygoers, of her children, of friends, food, fashion and artful dashes of cheerful macabre. Of DJs spinning, street artists working, people in costume and elaborate long-exposure light writing. She photographed because of an intense interest, motivation and fascination for engaging images.

I feel vague regret because I am now unable to be a part of Artfisch’s life outside of her having once accepted my friend request. I really like her work. I want people to be aware of this.

Erica's last Facebook update said "we are flowers of one garden."


A Gentleman’s Guide to Women’s Health — by Jimmy Chen

In observance of, and keeping with, the undue authority of this contributor’s position as a man, no additional research has been made in writing this, relying solely on personal observation, to further embrace the concession that much of what follows may be entirely wrong.
by Jimmy Chen of HTML Giant (Originally Published on Thought Catalog)

(Sources: mother [M], ex-partners [gf], female friends [F], television [TV], porn [P], public education [E], internet [I], and housemates [H].)

Menopause - A hormonal imbalance which occurs at ~50 -55 yrs., after ovulation stops. This is like PMS but it can last for a decade. A common symptom are “hot flashes,” generally caused or accompanied by irritation at one’s obtuse husband. [Source(s): M, TV]

PMS – Premenstrual Syndrome, per its prefix, happens before menstruation and lasts for about 5-7 days, though the start and end times are often difficult to distinguish from a woman’s overall disposition; this is a time of emotional instability and severe irritability. The worst thing a man can do is attribute a woman’s mood to PMS, even though she “objectively” has PMS. The best thing for a man to do is say and look “sorry” all the time during this time, and for good measure, even when it’s not PMS. [Source(s): M, gf, F, H]

Menstruation - This is when the “stuff” that was made for the baby is released from the women, unless she’s pregnant, which is why when a woman misses her period she might be pregnant, because the body keeps that “stuff” for the baby. The “stuff” is mostly blood, but also contains chunks of baby stuff. It is possible to make love to a menstruating woman, but you will get “stuff” on your male amorous vector. Menstruation lasts for 5-7 days (i.e. a period of time), and while theoretically subsequent to PMS, seems to coincide with it. [Source(s): M, gf, E]

Ovulation – Now it’s getting complicated. This is when a woman’s egg travels from the ovaries into the cervix. This is the start of her calendar—not lunar, perhaps lunatic. An easy way to think of it is: a) if the egg is not fertilized, she b) gets pissed off about it, then c) menstruates. She is menstruating or PMS-ing for a week and a half, and there’s another week where something else weird is going on, so there’s only ~1.5 week(s) per month when she can get pregnant. To take advantage of this and have sex when she can’t get pregnant is called the “rhythm method,” which sounds jazz related, but isn’t, unless one employs the Rusty Trombone. [Source(s): gf, F, H, E]

Weight – Most women struggle with either the perception of their weight, or their actual weight. “Chubby girls” or “fat chicks,” at the bottom of the female paradigm, likely become the target of explicit cruelty, or worse, passive-aggressive sympathy. This is why some girls develop anorexia and bulimia, or just get fat. Female self- and/or distorted-image issues are more about other women than about men. A girl who has normal weight, and isn’t a bitch about it, is considered relatively well-adjusted. [Source(s): M, gf, F, H]

Vulva – This may be the labia, I don’t know. [Source: none]

Labia – This may be the vulva, I don’t know. [Source: none]

Vagina – This either refers to the “hole,” or the canal. I think the word is used generically. [Source(s): M (birth only), gf, E]

Clitoris – This is congruent to the head of the penis. In fact, as embryos, they’re the same thing. This is not to be confused with the G-spot, which is located on the underside of the pubic bone, estimated (c/o “second base” or masturbation) at the end of a curled index finger. The clitoris is a pearl-like knobby thing at the top of the vulva or labia (whatever those are). Clits can be (c/o God’s design) inadvertently stimulated during “missionary” coitus; intentionally with fingers; or during cunnilingus, of which they’re the foci. [Source(s): gf, P, E]

Orgasm - A modern paradox and/or quandary is the female orgasm. There are many theories on what to attribute a female orgasm to, including, but not limited to: the G-spot, anal sex, clitoral stimulation, actual “love,” penile girth and/or length, duration of foreplay and/or penetration, etc. What further mystifies the female orgasm is the concession by women that they “fake it,” juxtaposed with the adamant claims from men regarding the verity of the orgasms they supposedly incite. [Source(s): gf, P, F]

Creampie - After a man ejaculates into a woman, there is a 2-3 minute period before her vagina walls contract back into a non-aroused state that she can force the ejaculate out, using the same “pushing” diaphragm movements as going to the bathroom. The resultant excretion (90% ejaculate, 10% intrinsic fluid), when aestheticized for porn, is known as a “creampie”; when it leaks out of the woman upon standing, it is just life. [Source(s): P, gf]

Pubis – The is either the pubic bone, or the pubic hair. The pubic bone is part of her skeleton, which this contributor discourages the cognizance of during coitus. Pubic hair, when not perennially trimmed, becomes a “wild bush” (c. 1960 – 1970s); when trimmed (c. 1980s – present), it can be stylized many ways to be indicative of one’s personality, similar to the moustache. [Source(s): misc.]

Sponge – This is like a “plug” that, well, plugs up the cervix, preventing the semen from entering the cervix, where the egg is. [Source(s): E, gf, I]

Female condom – Somewhat absurd, a female condom is basically a plastic bag that is placed inside the vagina to catch the semen. Think of it as a very loose condom that women who don’t have faith in men wear. [Source(s): E, I]

Douche – As a noun, it is a contraption similar to a turkey baster. As a verb, it is what a woman does with said baster, namely, squirt saline water in her vagina to clean it. Ones that come with a bag are considered “douchebags,” a word which has acquired etymological and cultural significance for identifying men who overestimate their courting prospects, the allusion being that they are vagina refuse material. [Source(s): E, I, F]

Asshole – While men also have assholes, women’s assholes are an anthropologically unique place, given that their evolution into an erogenous zone has no evolutionary implications (i.e. conceiving offspring). Many, if not most, men fetishize a woman’s asshole as some “forbidden tight Freudian hole,” into which they brave their glistening members. In porn, women who engage in anal sex get enemas before their performance, maintaining the illusion/delusion that fecal matter is somehow unrelated to anal sex. This is called dreaming. [Source(s): P]

Love – This is believed, by those once afflicted by it, to be a rumor. [Source(s): gf, M]




What 'A Relationship' is 'Actually'

‘Dumb animals’ tend 2 be social beings, due to their inability 2 function solitarily in a context not directly addressing reproductive ability/speed/efficiency. Humans happen to fall in2 this ‘dumb animal’ category [via humanity’s uncontrollable self-destructive behavior], and individually seem 2 decide that ‘co-dependence’, despite the conflicting desire to ‘be alone sometimes’, is a waayyy better way to ensure survival in the long-term.

‘Stupid animals’, like humans, have evolutionarily developed sensory, emotional, and chemical reactions that ensure this ‘sense of co-dependence’ interrupts daily life-tasks/goals enough and to a point where relationships [as we understand them] are sought after and tirelessly pursued...

Let’s take a ‘walkthrough’ around the various ‘staged of life’ and see how these tendencies manifest, primarily in a romantic sense:


Lil human babies are ‘super co-dependent’, in that they are incapable of performing any ‘survive in the wild’-type practical tasks, and there singular mammalian instinct is to grab the closest pair of titties and suckle suckle on them.

Human mothers are all like ‘oh my little baby, oh my little baby’ which exposes the child to early ideas of ‘possession’, ‘property’, and negative reinforcement of the child’s actual importance in the universe, which is close to if not equal to zero.

Because babies are cute, they get picked up and patted and touched on their cute lil faces all the time, creating an ‘interactive comfort zone’ that dictates future physical boundaries among other things. If a baby feels happy/comforted by feelings of being touched, the tendency that the baby will be ‘relationship normative’ is far higher


Children, being completely incapable [at this growth development stage] of deciphering their own thought processes, typically ask common-sense based questions that build ‘world-view-constructing’ reasoning capabilities.

‘ In light of’ these basic rhetorical exercises, children usually learn to play in groups and naturally begin forming lil oligarchies and decide who their favorite person/people are long before politics, warfare, or

Children are ‘all about’ hugging and holding hands and touching each other casually and in an ‘innocent’ manner that seems [appropriately] psychotic: craving interaction without any notion of what interaction ‘means’ or why they want to be held. It just makes them feel better/calm to be touching people.

Is this a basic ‘problem’ among humans that emotional stability cannot be established w/o excessive touching/feeling/kissing?

Do humans need to


Teenagers and their crazie hormone spikes cause a sudden influx of ‘I just wanna fondle u a lil’ feelings and feelings of ‘wtf is that bitch doing with my man’ and ‘let’s cum 2gether’ that cause closeness to seem needed and yet awkward and undesirable simply because of how impossibly awkward going from standing next to a person, talking about [something/nothing] is to comfortably cuddling/kissing/canoodling.

Clear evidence of the ‘dumb animal’ qualities exhibited by humans occurs at this stage. Evolution should have prepared humanity for a rabbit-style procreation scheme that begins after puberty, but because humans live way longer than most mammals, ‘nature’ seems to have ‘elongated the process’ over the course of a ‘gut-wrenching’ seven years before interaction seems easy and like meeting people will ‘just happen’ and the weird hormonal awkwardness is just a ‘remnant’ of ‘puberdy’ or something.


The social drive in humans to ‘connect’ seems ‘the most useless’ in full-grown adults due to the absurd, ‘childish’, aggression-repressing antics it inspires. Since the evolution-based 49:51 male-to female ratio caused humanity to deduce that monogamy is a practical way to live lonely, meaningless lives, people spend a lot of time in their 20’s//30’s//40’s trying to produce the ‘choicest’ of spawn with the ‘choicest’ of fuckbuddies/donors in what seems to be a woman inspired vague sense of ‘wanting to have a cute lil baby’ and have prolonged feelings of ‘security’ and ‘unconditional love’, while bros have been evolutionally catered to in that they equally vaguely like to go around cumming inside of ‘choicest’ vaginas while thinking of abstract ideas of ‘hotness’ and concentrating on vaguely good-feeling peen stimulation.

Also: ‘Who will inherit my empire?’

This process, a basic aspect of humanity’s long-term survival, seems totally chill, except that the emotional unpredictability inspired by learned reactions to feelings of jealousy, inadequacy, alienation and [something describing not having had physical interaction for prolonged periods of time] ‘contact-withdrawal’ are the same feelings that cause people to kill each other when aggravated due to prolonged feelings of insecurity. If every1 were ‘totally secure’ in how terrible life inevitably is and learned to think sarcastically about ‘progress’, ‘hope’ and ‘change’, everyone would spend more time being happy because of ‘humor’ and not pursuing conflict-driven goals/ideals.

When adult humans are not preoccupied with indulging all of these vague feelings of ‘longing’ [via procreation instinct], it seems like they only perform ego-boosting tasks that either are meaningless and repetitive or seem to try to initiate


People don’t want to die alone after having lived for a super long time dealing with confusing feelings of wanting to [and at the same time not wanting to] interact with specific types of people. So out of fear they cling 2 their offspring & living friends, pinching lil cheeks and stretching gnarled, saggily arms out for bony, uncomfortable, old people boob-filled hugs and drooly smooches.

Wanting to hold someone’s hand when ‘it’s time 2 go’ seems mad selfish, since that person will probably be super traumatized by ur death. Seems better to let him/her go off doing fun meaningless things sarcastically while you die instead of being all ‘teary-eyed’ and confused about whether you went to heaven or nirvana or in2 another womb or something.





Supposedly there is a distinct connection between 'horniness' and music that is considered 'sexual' in nature, or 'sexy' or something.

I looked on the local Youtube, Vevo, and Vimeo websites and other places and found some music videos that seem 'sexy' and 'doable.'

This first one is pretty beautiful, objectively, I think. Look at it:

Seems like this video is 'pretty doable,' with relation to how sexual it is. Unsure if I feel 'aroused' by watching it, but maybe. Look at this next video. It is a little less shocking in nature, though I don't think my parents would have let me watch it as a young child:

I think the broad who sings this song was deemed 'bat/shit crazy' shortly after releasing this video. Feel like this is not respecting the intentions I had when naming this article.

Is music really tied to sex? Or is it just thought to be? Maybe because it is rhythmic and induces euphoria, people assume there is an obvious connection between the two, but maybe there isn't.

I don't find the following video/music sexual/sexy at all and don't understand how any woman could/could have in the past:

Feel very curious about what specifically attracts women to big-name rock/pop/slow jamz singer-types. Is the attraction sexual and/or rooted in basic chemical/hormone function? Is it evolutionarily viable for millions of women to be obsessed with one crooner? What about this shit:

Supposedly women were willing to have sex with this bro at some point. Seems weird. What modern parallels can be drawn?

Feel really confused about the possibility that a lot of people are 'okay' with looking at these bros and thinking 'this is in no way embarrassing and I am interested in having sex with these guys if/when they are legal,' on the basis that it is completely shitty and that that old, late-bro who killed himself by accident while jizzing cameos somewhere in this.

Maybe nobody thinks these things though, and I can feel good that I live in a hypothetical world where wanting to mate with people who are unaware of how embarrassingly their are playing their lives out doesn't happen.

But people do think these things, and if the Jonas Bros don't have to have their dicks amputated because to diabetes first, they will probably fuck someone eventually maybe, and that seems not good to me.

Here is an example of how Lady Gaga 'gets sexual' or something:

When I first heard about/listened to/saw Lady Gaga, my initial reaction was 'I don't want this bitch anywhere near my cock,' and have strategically avoided her since. Now, with the advent of Guido culture becoming popular, I think that dirty Italian skanks have clearly become the new desired genitals to touch.

Bros/Broads, question: are you horny yet?

Here is something I think seems unusually attractive, like, 'I may not have had sex with either of these broads before I found out they made music like this, but now, maybe, idk.'

Then there's like, weird shit like this, where it is difficult to discern if you feel aroused by it or not:

I think I feel dehydrated and aroused after looking at this this time. Unsure.

Now here is some shameless promotion 'for da bros':




Recently everybody has been talking about 'rights' and a person's right to 'be with whoever they want,' or something. I feel unsure about the political parameters for these sort of claims, but I think legally it should be nobody's right to impose their lengthy/boring human existence on anybody else, especially if they are a morally corrupt fudge-packer/rug-muncher. But that's just my opinion, and based on that analysis, I think I might be trying to disclaim parenthood too. Unsure.

Look at these picture:

These gentlemen look like they could feasibly be 'good dads' or 'faithful partners,' but based solely on the blatantly exhibitionistic tendencies of their subculture, maybe it would be improper to support 'gay flamboyance' in the younger generation.

But maybe 'marriage' isn't about procreation or 'raising babies, at least,' and is about spending the duration of 'this painful existence' with someone you feel 'okay-to-good' about relatively consistently [via genital exploration].

If that 'is the case,' then I think that it is justifiable to say that the inconsistency of human decision-making has proven that nobody is willing to be subjected to that much psychological terrorism. It has been recently stated that marriage typically ends in divorce or something. If that is true, then gay marriage will probably end in divorce too. That is my argument, roughly.

Look at this picture:

It's gross. I don't like this. Trying to forget that I saw/posted/actually googlesearched this. I feel like I would be substantially less affected if it were a fat bro joyfully making love to his fat woman, but this shit is awful.

What if we lived in a world where gay sex wasn't gross. What if we lived in ancient Greece/Rome/Gomorrah and 'gaiety'/gayness were a wondrous, beautiful thing.

We do not live in that world. Unfortunately, we live in a world where consensual, legally mature, coital satisfaction creates good feelings in the majority of people, and an unfortunate downside to those good feelings is babies. This can't be undone. This is a realization they gays must come to if they ever want to achieve true solidarity/social conflation.

Look at this picture:

Fucking 'beautiful.' People should not get married. They should just have tons of sex and avoid babies or something. This has been an extensive and underwhelmingly poignant post by Buttercup McGillicuddy.



'Think Tank' is a poetry collection by Messrs. Jordan Castro and Richard Wehrenberg Jr.
Jordan Castro sent me a copy 'gratis.'
I am unsure why.
I told him I would review 'Think Tank' 'posthumously,' and schedule it to appear on this blog.
I enjoyed reading the poems collected in this chapbook thing.

Thematically it seems Jordan Castro and Richard Wehrenberg Jr. are obsessed with 'domination' and 'conquering' in a fundamentally non-sarcastic way,
But seem to realize the futility of feeling the desire/impulse to 'dominate'/'conquer' things,
Since the practices of 'claiming dominion' and 'being a conqueror' seem to be the opposite of 'life-affirming,'
Due to intense human suffering caused by these abstractions.
These poets seem able to address this sarcastically through their poems or something.

Jordan Castro

The voice that Jordan Castro writes with seems foreign, or not himself; well-constructed,
Like he is writing about someone pretending to be someone else, from the perspective of an objective observer.

I enjoyed the effect that this style had on my reading experience.


Richard Wehrenberg Jr. seems like he could feasibly have been 'a jock' that had 'an existential awakening' a la Jack Kerouac,
And writes primarily what his passions/thoughts are, while frequently questioning the physical/abstract states of various things.
Seems like Richard Wehrenberg Jr.'s writing is less fictional/written from 'a more honest/questioning' voice than Jordan Castro's maybe.

I most enjoyed reading four of the last three poems, called 'how cell phones ruin romantic poems', 'like matryoshka dolls', and the title piece, 'think tank for human beings in general'.

I like poems about one person talking to another person self-consciously,
'Think Tank' has a lot of poems in this vein.

I think that Jordan Castro is a prodigious young poet and will continue to write good things in the near/semi-distant future and feel sad that I will be dead when this happens.

I think that Richard Wehrenberg Jr. has a unique vision of the world,
And I enjoy the effect that the experience of 'trying to visualize "the world" how Richard Wehrenberg Jr. visualizes "the world" via reading his poetry' has on my brain/perception of 'the world.'

I recommend this poetry collection to depressed people everywhere,
And specifically recommend reading Jordan Castro's 'this morning i worried about my face, among other things',
Therapeutically, to briefly assuage severe feelings of self-loathing.

Have a good evening.

Jordan Castro
Richard Wehrenberg Jr.



I didn't get laid 'last minute' and feel pretty shitty about this decision, overall.

For everyone who read, contributed, shit-talked, and supported me/RoRhet, thank you.

To everyone who clicked on the ads, I was able to buy a new pair of shoes because of you, so thanks.

To everyone who has been here from the start, you're the man!

And to all the girls who inspired this blog specifically, thanks for nothing.

Adios amigos.


People can read my novel, 'Male, Black', in its entirety by clicking on the image below.


If you want to get in touch with my family for any personal reasons, you can mail things to:

The Parents of Buttercup McGillicuddy
5006 55th Ave
Hyattsville, MD 20781

They will probably reply.


I am not a vampire, zombie, mummy, or scientifically reanimated biology experiment. This is it. Honestly can't think of any 'good last words.'