Michael Mc Aloran
stance light end
Black Editions Press
Mc Aloran’s newest book resumes the breakage of syntax and rupture of language that characterizes his earlier works. The repetitive what obviously situates the book within ontology, in that it discusses the ontic (there is no meaning behind any of it). beings, as opposed to Being, are scumbags. Mc Aloran’s text attempts to ascribe them some axiological status, or pretends to, to these scumbag beings, then tells them to fuck off. Weather, blood on the walls, glass, fingers, sunlight – all a bunch of cunts. Whereof, one assumes, the tendency to abstraction on his paintings.
wound till gift of speech reclaimed dead hence nothing of
till matters none…stance light end…
The gift is the Es gibt. The giving of Being in beings through logos, better of dead. No posturing any more. The taint in the eye is the tain of the mirror, the black sun, that which is impenetrable and refuses transparency. We do not see what is, humans – again I use “we” out of sheer politeness – and this matters little or nothing, none matters, no one, it matters not an iota – already this here is absence & the final fucking outrage of speech and words is that the cocksuckers can survive our deaths and seem to express our selves that then shall be lacking. The point of the exercise is to rape syntax repeatedly until the meaning will be seen as through an ass darkly.
…what to founder of where null abounds it not…what
whisper unto…what fleshed as it escapes…what cannot
Words do not serve, they become a vain statement. What is left is the vain gesture, the Potlatch frenzy that is writing without being fucking retarded. Mc Aloran is one of the few to do so.
You can get it here