'bone bite snare', (Erratum Press 2022), reviewed by Lee Beckworth

 

'Bone Bite Snare' the latest work from Michael McAloran that displays his skill at re-articulating language identity and meaning into a labyrinthine revolt against the demands of the word to be understood and in doing so he steps beyond the existence of the novel as bourgeois artefact /The vitality of his text underlines the possibility of a vertigo of linguistic masochism confronting the reader with the refusal of a fixed tyranny of predictable meaning while corrupting notions of authorial identity/it is the individual who creates art no longer art that creates the self conscious individual that supreme illusion where everything is resolved/this work reflects the darkness and drunkenness of an epoch of evil and pessimism/but he does not complain of being misunderstood/in fact he invites a delirium of mystery and ambiguity in this barren age of mediocrity/To quote Deleuze and Guattari the schizoid revolutionary pole of the unconscious follows the centrifugal movement of the desire to be liberated from all ideological positions/A form of neutrality that refuses to be nailed down to a narrative persona not modern not post modern but dominates the passion to have meaning revealed/ The rest is silence/What McAloran calls the paradigm of shit a bitter frenzy teethed to the sky/What is this text about?/What is it trying to achieve?/Perhaps these paragraphs are generated and operating under the guise of Freuds concept of displacement?/Why the plethora of micro description or rather perhaps the absence of a narrator of names of anything outside of his authorial abandonment of rules of literary conduct?/What is being described adrift through corridors of barren-toned abandon ?/Words exfoliates as a depth tide for extinction of centrality of rational discourse /Cybernetics as a language in its final transformation and bone bite snare defies the imagination to evolve a understanding of these word events unless the imagination perfects resonance with the art of confusion?/...till terse redempt nothing ever of the collision verge where coil of edge redeem spill of light/What does this mean for language?/There is a need for an ear tuned towards absorbing the maximum from the multiplicity of perspectives offered /...where to taste is of the dead light what once it will return bleak solace headlong broken../Meaning seems at first stripped from the lines of words that have no evidence of punctuation to stem the flow of images perhaps three dots being the only evidence of a pause in the onslaught of discourse/Mc Aloran as author is released from adherence to his humanity touching what is unimaginable forgotten unnecessary the displaced puzzle of the suspect narrative throws off habit and expresses a nascent state of verbal demiurgy/Will language in the Age of the post digital even use an alphabet as it is now/Will there be a flood of new words coming from a Cybernetic driven culture that dominates the paradigm of consciousness if such a state even exists/What being[s] might constitute the Cybernetic paradigm?/These are questions Mc Aloran engages with/ Consciousness is a consensual human hellucination/We are limited by our language/Just as Physics is limited by its theorems/The depth of the imagination is limited in the human/An awake dream a state of fugue drifting mindless and out of control/What happens when the author sheds his breathless haven of desire and thinks back until peeling shadows from wounds of memory coming to rest in paragraphs of confessional vapours to a silent audience?/The spoken word may disappear and all interaction between subjects may be purely desiring neural discharges/Micro seconds of pleasure but it [the gap] exists and is in no way linear/...bloody waste pass through given fleshed disaster rank with silences the final eyes of sleep forgotten merely to slumber long into ever echo where night is ever ever long/ With an ear bent towards absorbing the maximum from words linked in paragraphs meaning is stripped from the readers intolerable senses birthing the fleshed close of hour upon hour touching what is possibly unable to be known/The displaced puzzle of narrative throws off the habit of the quotidian and each phrase ends with a sense of finality then opens up into another series of subjective anomalies revealing fragments recognised from the plethora of interpretations hidden in the obfuscations of semiotic precision born of post biological thought processes/Mc Aloran is always transgressing the limit of comprehension hidden amongst the fragments between the words and the lines/...the words graze the surface dredge of corridors once forged die down in listless slaughter/ Semi automatic metaphors struggle to follow the maze of images/As the author says in another of his texts Code # 4 Texts the words must be read both horizontal and vertically with an urgent but sterile engagement/Again in bone bite snare through what dim a doorway unto abandoned landscapes all foreign/McAlorans post biological text reflects the deep contradictions in contemporary culture not by confronting it with a leftist academic ideology but with a sense of neutrality almost an anti aestheticism expressing conspiratorial language that demands the reader completely rethink its engagement with language communication a world akin to that of Beckett and Joyce/A text that attempts to liberate the conscious voice from the tyranny of pulp fiction and the overly common intellectual narratives/Mc Aloran restores the corporeality of desire to know to understand /Instead of the passive 16 seconds of focus a level of concentration is needed to grasp the reinventing of word and phoneme that generate new significations/The reader if astute enough finds themselves revelling in a state of jouissance/...null stop collision rat surfaces to forage breathe of cannot expel it is choke upon at silhouettes silent edge/

The systematic delirium of auto suggestion drives the reader to maximise the processes of the imagination/a rare glimpse into a reek of silence oblivious to the commerce here there or barren ashen sunk white knee deep in shit reek there was something what was it named after/The work aims to quench an urgent desire for simplicity and banality/The Forgotten Memory of the Future/Insanity and excess of vision and sound/ Consciousness is not the seat of identity/When you have gone as far as you can you are only half way there/Reality for Mc Aloran is not enough/He dreams of the inside which is the unconscious and the outside which is the imagination/What is the connection between the unconscious and the imagination between twins/Do we only imagine in the conscious or is it a direct production of the dream of the other that we have forgotten as real and think that it is an inspiration of the conscious?/Bone bite snare is a limit experience that prevents us from remaining in the dream without transgressing its emptied out presence/Or are we permanently in the dream becoming other within space and time a rational thought or a non-thought/the unconscious/Mc Aloran improvises with a brilliant acuity of mind/...waste ground where now the closure of what given to beckon of as if to speak all days done for haven/ How do we maintain the boundaries?/Should we bother?/The process of constructing identity is creative and the creative individual creates many selves/What do you dream of and what do you dream of becoming/Is a dream a process of desire or are desires limited to the conscious/Is the dream the thinking of the unthinkable/Mc Aloran constructs the almost unthinkable/He is recording the collapse of Western civilisation liquidating the last vestiges of his intrinsic or symbolic value while maintaining an absolute integrity of creative thought/broken shadows in a collective of meat to bone to tragedy lack of it turning upon where to of if not what silence...a flight from echo into foreign echoing desire ramparts a fist to pommel the skylines teeth...

Lee Beckworth 2022 

The book itself, which is the first part of a triptych published by Erratum Press, is available to purchase & also as a free download, here

'bone bite snare' - (Erratum Press 2022) - Free Download

 

"In bone bite snare, the jagged necrotextures of poetics are not only anatomically exposed but let of fluids through a cosmically conscientious mechanism not dissimilar to Pollock's 'drip technique'. This raw performance of a past and predetermined doom is here recorded and thus made infinite in its recurrence." -- Elytron Frass

“this,is neonoir,a new kind of nihilism,where even the language,even if highly poetic,cannot be attested to certainty or absolutism or essentiality. everything is loose now,shifted loose by geodesic and societal schisms and shiftings. it really is the endworld,now with the appropriate acuitry sketched in a language befitted to mimic thefragments,the inconclusiveness,the w/hole.” -- Aad de Gids

"In his texts Michael Mc Aloran curates [the impossibility of representationalism anymore], the last esthetic mirrorings of these wastelands through which we wade, in bleak necessity, in machinationmechanistical catatony, our arts following sinister paths to follow the porncinema our world has become. The paradox is, and it also isn't a paradox anymore, that Mc Aloran conceives this inexplicable, indiscernable cryptolinguistic curating [holidayjob] documenting in exactitude that it is no longer possible to follow these worlds of the world like we sit on top of it but we're deeply indebted to as well as prey to its capriciocity and haunting presentism. The world over us that is, and Mc Aloran bears witness to exactly this precarious position, point, to which all end-arts and anti-estheticisms must dwell, finally, in unironic splendour of a glitzing decay." -- Chyna Blac

'bone bite snare' is  also available as a free download here

'bone bite snare' (Erratum Press) reviewed by Lee Beckworth

 

Bone bite snare the latest work from Michael Mc Aloran that displays his skill at re-articulating language identity and meaning into a labyrinthine revolt against the demands of the word to be understood and in doing so he steps beyond the existence of the novel as bourgeois artefact /The vitality of his text underlines the possibility of a vertigo of linguistic masochism confronting the reader with the refusal of a fixed tyranny of predictable meaning while corrupting notions of authorial identity/it is the individual who creates art no longer art that creates the self conscious individual that supreme illusion where everything is resolved/this work reflects the darkness and drunkenness of an epoch of evil and pessimism/but he does not complain of being misunderstood/in fact he invites a delirium of mystery and ambiguity in this barren age of mediocrity/To quote Deleuze and Guattari the schizoid revolutionary pole of the unconscious follows the centrifugal movement of the desire to be liberated from all ideological positions/A form of neutrality that refuses to be nailed down to a narrative persona not modern not post modern but dominates the passion to have meaning revealed/ The rest is silence/What McAloran calls the paradigm of shit a bitter frenzy teethed to the sky/What is this text about?/What is it trying to achieve?/Perhaps these paragraphs are generated and operating under the guise of Freuds concept of displacement?/Why the plethora of micro description or rather perhaps the absence of a narrator of names of anything outside of his authorial abandonment of rules of literary conduct?/What is being described adrift through corridors of barren-toned abandon ?/Words exfoliates as a depth tide for extinction of centrality of rational discourse /Cybernetics as a language in its final transformation and bone bite snare defies the imagination to evolve a understanding of these word events unless the imagination perfects resonance with the art of confusion?/...till terse redempt nothing ever of the collision verge where coil of edge redeem spill of light/What does this mean for language?/There is a need for an ear tuned towards absorbing the maximum from the multiplicity of perspectives offered /...where to taste is of the dead light what once it will return bleak solace headlong broken../Meaning seems at first stripped from the lines of words that have no evidence of punctuation to stem the flow of images perhaps three dots being the only evidence of a pause in the onslaught of discourse/Mc Aloran as author is released from adherence to his humanity touching what is unimaginable forgotten unnecessary the displaced puzzle of the suspect narrative throws off habit and expresses a nascent state of verbal demiurgy/Will language in the Age of the post digital even use an alphabet as it is now/Will there be a flood of new words coming from a Cybernetic driven culture that dominates the paradigm of consciousness if such a state even exists/What being[s] might constitute the Cybernetic paradigm?/These are questions Mc Aloran engages with/ Consciousness is a consensual human hellucination/We are limited by our language/Just as Physics is limited by its theorems/The depth of the imagination is limited in the human/An awake dream a state of fugue drifting mindless and out of control/What happens when the author sheds his breathless haven of desire and thinks back until peeling shadows from wounds of memory coming to rest in paragraphs of confessional vapours to a silent audience?/The spoken word may disappear and all interaction between subjects may be purely desiring neural discharges/Micro seconds of pleasure but it [the gap] exists and is in no way linear/...bloody waste pass through given fleshed disaster rank with silences the final eyes of sleep forgotten merely to slumber long into ever echo where night is ever ever long/ With an ear bent towards absorbing the maximum from words linked in paragraphs meaning is stripped from the readers intolerable senses birthing the fleshed close of hour upon hour touching what is possibly unable to be known/The displaced puzzle of narrative throws off the habit of the quotidian and each phrase ends with a sense of finality then opens up into another series of subjective anomalies revealing fragments recognised from the plethora of interpretations hidden in the obfuscations of semiotic precision born of post biological thought processes/Mc Aloran is always transgressing the limit of comprehension hidden amongst the fragments between the words and the lines/...the words graze the surface dredge of corridors once forged die down in listless slaughter/ Semi automatic metaphors struggle to follow the maze of images/As the author says in another of his texts Code # 4 Texts the words must be read both horizontal and vertically with an urgent but sterile engagement/Again in bone bite snare through what dim a doorway unto abandoned landscapes all foreign/McAlorans post biological text reflects the deep contradictions in contemporary culture not by confronting it with a leftist academic ideology but with a sense of neutrality almost an anti aestheticism expressing conspiratorial language that demands the reader completely rethink its engagement with language communication a world akin to that of Beckett and Joyce/A text that attempts to liberate the conscious voice from the tyranny of pulp fiction and the overly common intellectual narratives/Mc Aloran restores the corporeality of desire to know to understand /Instead of the passive 16 seconds of focus a level of concentration is needed to grasp the reinventing of word and phoneme that generate new significations/The reader if astute enough finds themselves revelling in a state of jouissance/...null stop collision rat surfaces to forage breathe of cannot expel it is choke upon at silhouettes silent edge/

The systematic delirium of auto suggestion drives the reader to maximise the processes of the imagination/a rare glimpse into a reek of silence oblivious to the commerce here there or barren ashen sunk white knee deep in shit reek there was something what was it named after/The work aims to quench an urgent desire for simplicity and banality/The Forgotten Memory of the Future/Insanity and excess of vision and sound/ Consciousness is not the seat of identity/When you have gone as far as you can you are only half way there/Reality for Mc Aloran is not enough/He dreams of the inside which is the unconscious and the outside which is the imagination/What is the connection between the unconscious and the imagination between twins/Do we only imagine in the conscious or is it a direct production of the dream of the other that we have forgotten as real and think that it is an inspiration of the conscious?/Bone bite snare is a limit experience that prevents us from remaining in the dream without transgressing its emptied out presence/Or are we permanently in the dream becoming other within space and time a rational thought or a non-thought/the unconscious/Mc Aloran improvises with a brilliant acuity of mind/...waste ground where now the closure of what given to beckon of as if to speak all days done for haven/ How do we maintain the boundaries?/Should we bother?/The process of constructing identity is creative and the creative individual creates many selves/What do you dream of and what do you dream of becoming/Is a dream a process of desire or are desires limited to the conscious/Is the dream the thinking of the unthinkable/Mc Aloran constructs the almost unthinkable/He is recording the collapse of Western civilisation liquidating the last vestiges of his intrinsic or symbolic value while maintaining an absolute integrity of creative thought/broken shadows in a collective of meat to bone to tragedy lack of it turning upon where to of if not what silence...a flight from echo into foreign echoing desire ramparts a fist to pommel the skyline's teeth.... 

'bone bite snare' is available via Erratum Press

'bone bite snare' at Minor Literature[s]

 

An excerpt from 'bone bite snare' is now co-published at Minor Literature[s] with Emile Bojesen's otherworldly latest here

Excerpts from 'bone bite snare'/ Erratum Press/ now published at Var(2x)

Here:  Var(2x)

An excerpt from 'bone bite snare', published by Erratum Press

From Section III 

…crack knuckle bleed exile trace of bedamned meat a sarcophagus of lightless smoke in veins a-dream it-shadow specious cause of what once aglow nothing much lest viper close of wound bedexed absentee so writ(ten) was the word clear skies an abort of sunlight cascade of the below whereof silent travail throughout never of the beseech of neither of the absurdly broken solace saturate in blood cum & shit of redempt nothing of the weight to follow it is a lie as was uttered hollow spat frugal taint tight travail where to absurdly mock of syllabic laughter the locked jaw of the bone bitten salvation snare that coil of neck-snap defecate deter where the shadow’s internal organs turn to vibrant dust as if to worm throughout whereto of as onward broken bodies ruptured scattered nothing of the remaining of the collide it-depth nothing barter seed to scatter(ed) once was abandon all what words all semblant traces of the obscure the marrow’s landscape a reek of acrid shit that carries through the vague light’s distant effigies never knowing of the once twice thrice repeats after nothing on the commence of it to bleed one final asking of cold taint it matter broken nothing as of which till terse redempt nothing ever of the collision verge where coil of edge redeem spill of light to replace the internal collapse of having abattoir kiss taint flowers ever of the shadowing as if to density is to reduce to dusts nothing as before where once eye coil in desolate devour subtle as to of & which of out of to the…

…nowhere if/ return from broken blood asked of throughout the redeem the solace mutilation given of the burn to touch grace through the majesty of exaltation of absolve…light run low of dim reclusion…body a-mask/ denuded it is of the echo stone of the absurdly locked spat in the face again of from the before of the commence forgotten nothing of as if to claim of it embers embers null & voiceless…voice yes vocal yes words nothing vacuum tide & the shit in one’s shoes a harvest of disclosure breaking from fever till fever unsensed…on no…rotted…rooted...vomits once more...what once more the origin of…all that can be sensed is the reek…& the perhaps twice or thrice by the second & third remark of it…skin the body whole…nothing ever of to the amass of it to nothing ever much of it is echoed…

…in a heaving stun of steaming organs slap down tryst sick bile etch of broke limb orifice collision electrify slapped down upon stainless steel skyline opulent silence give or take one thousand windows screaming their vault of tidal blood effortlessly obscurity solace a kiss of blade across the throat ejaculative devour staunch of woundage silver coin a-spin upon the navel frozen waters the depths of blood-rage fallen to crucifixion tones the like of which silence to repeat it merely of to get it over with it was once then enough of the other climb dead tense waters flowing let it bleed let it falter signature erased nothing of to mimicry dense as what once of the haven from the dug trench climate of rat pulse parameter see of in the once was fallen known of no more…of no more the gilded complex of fallen obscurity breathless longing for in the heave of this or other given to expire dusted realms of derelict rooms poisonous only of where nectar dreams of denounce it from the other scar of the lesser more than blood to excise skin upon skin to turn from demarcate breathless avarice a void of emptily expose of meat’s devour of flourish regalia distant shadows to come closer closer damage nothing as before of the silt-traipse syllabus a mockery of teeth to snare through bone black bite to unto bitten reclusion in dirt whereof to cold stone dredge of corridors of aftermaths never of the detritus edge of the serrated kiss white shock light a forage a nothing a…

The book itself is available via Erratum Press