Jack

JACK MY PAGE
 * Bypass Views and Values Essay**

“ McGirr uses time and place to create a complex picture of the highway”

Throughout the Novel Bypass, Michael McGirr constantly uses time and place to create a complex picture of the highway. He often mentions historic events, sites examples of things people have achieved along the roadside and discusses memorable locations along the road. McGirr closely examines the above and frequently uses them to support the views and values he tries to express. McGirr had been a Jesuit priest for most of his life and had lived in Melbourne for a long time prior to writing Bypass; moving to Gunning and then riding from Sydney to Melbourne was probably the most exciting thing he had ever done. This is what has caused McGirr to find such an interest in the road, which to most is just an ordinary road. All of this relates to McGirr resisting what he has come to know as his life and the expectations upon him. Three effective uses of people, historic events on the road and places to represent his views and values in this context are McGirr’s mention of Hume and Hovell, his mention of the Trucker Blockade and the mentions of different monuments he visits.

McGirr challenges the way Hume and Hovell carried out their journey and the rivalry between them and uses them as a contrast to his own Journey. //‘Hume and Hovell are the patron saints of all who fight on a journey, of everybody who just wants to get there and get home’// where as McGirr believes that //‘Life is a journey worth taking slowly’// Unlike Hume and Hovell who desperately pushed forward at a rapid pace and became bitter enemies through an unnecessary rivalry; McGirr takes things slowly and enjoys an overall pleasant bicycle trip on which he gains a wife, Jenny. McGirr encourages thinking of others as companions and friends rather than rivals and enemies and doing things the slower way. By doing things the slower way he is resisting the common expectation of going fast on a highway. McGirr continues to express his view on resistance by mentioning the Trucker Blockade of 1979.

McGirr admires the truckies who took part in the blockade; primarily he admires Ted Stevens also known as Greendog for having the courage to resist the government to acquire something he wanted //‘he knew the impact of lifting the blockade’//. McGirr has taken a page out of Ted Stevens’s book having resisted the way his life once was and found himself a new existence. McGirr consolidates his view on resistance by endorsing it more deeply when mentioning the Dog on the Tucker Box monument.

McGirr uses the Dog on the Tucker Box as an analogy of his leaving the Jesuit order and to endorse the idea of resistance. Because in the song //‘the dog sat on the tucker box’// the monument is thought of as a symbol of obedience, much like McGirr was obedient to the Jesuit order. The Dog on the Tucker Box is really a sign of resistance the words in the song having originally been //‘the dog shat in the tucker box’// McGirr has resisted the Jesuit order by leaving it and finding a new way to express his faith he notes that //‘it wasn’t that I found obedience too difficult. I found it too easy’//

As the novel draws to a close McGirr discusses how he has had a child with jenny and that as they held him they wondered //‘where his road would take him and where he would rest’// this is the final resistance McGirr takes against what he was and completes his transformation into a new person. McGirr has not only used time and place to create a complex picture of the Hume highway but also of his road, his highway.

Close Analysis Bypass passage thing Jack here are a few suggestions to improve your analysis //Bypass Passage Close analysis// ( took away neat large heading stupid wikispaces : The only character in this passage is the narrator, who has some very ‘interesting’ ideas. He has used fairly simplistic language in an attempt to appeal to a fairly broad audience. The narrator has used some of the most dim-witted metaphors I have ever had to read. ‘You cannot step in the same river twice’ and his own interpretation ‘The Hume …it is a bit like a river. It has changed course so many times that you do wonder if you can set foot on the same road twice’ have probably been used as a metaphor for the changes we experience during our lives. However these are extremely dim-witted metaphors because Clearly you can step in the same river twice and you can set foot on the same road twice… some detail may have changed but it is still the same river/ road otherwise the ‘Hume Highway’ would no longer be the ‘Hume Highway’… (I just find the metaphor extremely stupid) Another interesting idea he has is that to enjoy travelling the Hume you must go slowly… I would have to agree with him on this although I would probably just end up either going on a motorbike rather than a bicycle. I think he tries to use his lame humour to make his extremely dull book interesting. ‘a bicycle with an unfit rider is even better…a bicycle with an unfit rider who thinks he has seen the road a thousand times is best of all’ I am unsure whether he is trying to be funny in this instance but it’s still lame. I am not sure how to conclude this I don’t think it even counts as a Close analysis its more just a pointless rant about why I find that metaphor stupid and why the author guy is lame. But meh I tried… (It should also be noted that I read the first chapter last night just before I went to sleep and…it must have been really dull because all I remember is some trucks leaving Gunning cause of a bypass)


 * ESSAY BYPASS EXTRACTS**

In these three Bypass extracts Michael McGirr discusses his identity. He develops himself as a character by explaining events and realisations that have shaped him into who he is today. Extract 1 discusses his life as a Jesuit priest, Extract 2 discusses the fact that he misses being a priest and Extract 3 discusses his learning that the choices that we can’t make and choose not to make during our lifetimes enrich us as people.

Extract 1 explains what it was like for McGirr living as a Jesuit priest. He explains that he belonged in no single place //‘I belonged nowhere because I belonged everywhere. I lived on the road’// His life had become a routine of going here and there in Melbourne. He had reached his limit and was beginning to think to highly of himself //‘There’s a difference between thinking your work is important and thinking you are important because you do the work’// McGirr explains that //‘The city felt small to me. When I got to Gunning, population 500, it was overwhelming by comparison’// This reflects that for him moving was an escape, the prelude to a new chapter in his life yet along the way he sometimes misses elements of his old lifestyle.

In Extract 2 McGirr explains that //‘The road has no respect for persons or status’// McGirr once believed the same of himself but realises that he misses his title. //‘I used to be called Father. Then I became plain Mister’// McGirr has lost something of himself after leaving the priesthood //‘I was grieving for something. I didn’t know what to call myself’// He makes note that //‘Only other people can give you your name’// In context this appears to subtly hint at his relationship with Jenny. McGirr finds peace in his relationship with Jenny and by worshipping her he replaces the emptiness of no longer being part of the Jesuit order. Towards the end of the novel McGirr reflects on choices and relationships shaping who we are.

In Extract 3 McGirr uses the road to assist him in describing the way choices shape who we are //‘The road can go in two directions at once. Maybe more. But the rest of us can only go in one.’// He explains that //‘We are enriched by what we can’t do and even more by what we choose not to do’// McGirr is suggesting that no matter what we have achieved it is the things we haven’t achieved that make us human he states that //‘The secret of being human is learning how to enjoy our limitations’// He finishes up this passage by portraying the need for relationships //‘Just about anyone can ride a bike from Sydney to Melbourne on their own but it’s impossible to squeeze a pimple in the middle of your back without help. ’// He is suggesting that while we can achieve things on our own the achievements are pointless if we have no one to share them with and that there are some things we cannot do on our own. By doing such things with others we are truly enjoying our limitations.

The events and realisations that Michael McGirr has discussed in these three Bypass Extracts have played a major role in shaping who he is today.

=SOME OF MY STORIES= here is a bunch of stories i started writing some more recent than others most of them arent more than a year old i think...

1
The knight rode steadily onwards beneath the forest canopy. The shadows danced around him as his horse carefully trudged through the thorny overgrown shrubs that barred their way. He had travelled for three days in this cursed forest. He was without food or water and had not slept for more than a few hours since his departure from The Bramble Inn two days earlier.

Night had fallen and he was eager to find a safe place to rest, a small cave perhaps or a large tree which he could doze under. Beneath him his steed gave a sudden whine and fell forward. The knight was sent tumbling down the hill side his thick armour scraping on rocks and twigs.

He came to an abrupt halt as his back crunched against am immense boulder. He moaned hatefully. Lying motionless on the filthy forest floor, he bitterly swore vengeance on his enemies.

It was they who were responsible for his continual suffering. They had driven him to the edges of the realm and beyond. Through snow and ice, dust and sand they had hunted him but again and again he evaded capture.

He was once a proud knight, faithfully serving his king and country. Through a harsh childhood and many a bloody battle he had grown up to be a hardened warrior, killing a foe had become instinct rather than a show of skill with a blade. He spent many years at war with his enemies fanatically slaying any who opposed the king.

His loyalty did not go unrewarded. The knight became a lord and was given a wide mountainous estate and a wife. His ambitions and dreams were a reality but it was not to last.

The knight had been ordered to infiltrate the inner most circle of those opposing his king and to slay their leader. He had done so giving no thought to the consequences of his actions.

The king had used his most faithful servant for the most selfish of endeavours, the desire for power. When the knight presented the head of his fallen adversary he was arrested by the king’s elite guard. The king had only wished the head of the vile snake that opposed him severed so that he could spread propaganda amongst its minions and label the knight as the one solely responsible for its slaying.

By doing this the king could subtly gain control of those who were once his enemy and invoke loyalty in them by sending groups of his own men and theirs on a man hunt for the murderous demon who had taken their leader from them.

The knight enraged by the betrayal was secretly banished by the king and sent into the wild with a horse, a week’s supply of food, a basic set of tools and his weapons and armour. From then on he had been constantly trailed by an abundance of blinded fools eager to destroy him.

Presently, the knight rose to his feet, leaning on the boulder for support. He stumbled clumsily down the hillside to his horse. It lay motionless on the forest floor in front of him. He lifted its head from the ground. A large piece of wood protruded from the horse’s neck, blood spilt from the lethal wound. The horse that had been his only companion for many months was dead.

The knight let forth a terrible scream of rage. He could feel his sanity waning. He wandered hopelessly beneath the trees, the impenetrable darkness and the awareness that he now had little chance of ever leaving this accursed forest dampened his spirits further.

Hours past as the knight felt his hunger, thirst and fatigue slowly killing him. He wished now more than ever to return to his home and his wife and to live out the rest of his days in peace.

The knight cried in anguish as he walked onwards knowing that he would never see home again. The trees above him slowly became more beautiful. An absolute contrast to the despair he felt inside.

After a time the knight heard the sound of running water, he made his way towards its source. Eventually the knight came to a magnificent clearing. The lush grass around him moved gently as a pleasant wind rustled the trees behind him. He noticed a peaceful waterfall at one edge of the glade. The waterfall ran to a calm pool in the centre of this wonderful place.

Then he saw her, standing at the edge of the pool looking across at him. Her naked body was flawless in the tranquil moonlight, her eyes met with his; they seemed to beckon him closer. He made his way to her, forgetting all of his previous troubles. She was the most beautiful women he had ever set his eyes upon.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the woman said as the knight reached her. He was stunned by her beauty. Her long blonde hair moved gently in the wind wisping across her gorgeous face. Her sky blue eyes gazed up at him longingly. The serene moonlight made her pale skin and facial features appear even more beautiful.

She put her arms around him and kissed him. He kissed her back, for a few peaceful moments they remained in this embrace. Then the women released the knight from her grasp and began unstrapping his armoured cuirass.

He eagerly helped remove the armour. It fell to the ground with a loud clang as parts of it bashed against one another. The woman lent on her knees in front of him and continued removing his armour from the leg down.

When she had finished she rose to her feet and once again embraced the knight who now wore only his underclothes. She reached her hands beneath his shirt and helped him remove it. The knight threw it to the ground and kissed the women once more. He leant his head on the woman’s shoulder and began kissing her neck. The woman swiftly removed herself from the knights grasp. “What are you doing?” asked the knight an expression of surprise across his face.

The woman skilfully raised her right arm. A black haze erupted around her hand as a jagged blade appeared seemingly from nowhere. The woman closed her hand around the blade and thrust it towards the knight.

He tried to shield himself but her movements were too swift. The blade pierced his chest sending a spray of blood across the woman’s face which was now contorted with rage. He howled desperately as a shot of pain rushed through his bloodied chest. The woman released her grip on the blade.

The knight fell to his knees desperately gasping for air as blood filled his punctured lungs. He had avoided those that wished him dead for months; he had avoided death for months, how, how could this mere woman be the one to kill him?

His face cringed as he frantically crawled away from the woman. He soon abandoned this effort; the pain it caused him was too much. He rolled over and lay on his back in the beautiful glade. Death was taking hold. The knight took his final breaths… perhaps now he would finally find peace.

I was out in my dad’s paddocks trying to hunt rabbits when it began. I walked through the grass quietly, carefully avoiding any sticks that might snap and give away my position. It was dusk so I figured there ought to be a decent number of rabbits running about. I spotted a group of them, maybe three or four about twenty metres in front of me. I slung my air rifle from my back; it had been a birthday gift from my father and was the only gun he would let me use while he wasn’t home.

I slowly and gently knelt down then I carefully flicked down the rifles bipod. I lay forwards and placed the rifle and myself on the dusty ground. The rabbits were none the wiser, they were still eagerly frolicking amongst the grass.

I brought the butt of the rifle to my shoulder, closed my left eye and began aligning the scope with my target. I decided I’d aim for the biggest rabbit, I figured that logically it ought to be the easiest bunny to hit, probably the hardest to kill though especially since I was using an air rifle.

The rabbit was in my crosshairs I raised my aim slightly above its head, because of the distance I needed to factor in how much the bullet might drop before meeting its target. I gently squeezed the trigger.

The rabbits bounded away as the noise of the shot softly echoed around me. I had definitely hit the bunny but my rifle just wasn’t powerful enough to kill it. It was moving slower than the rest of the rabbits as they all ran for the cover of a fenced off tree line, but not slow enough to take another shot at.

I decided there was no point hanging around waiting for the rabbits to come out of the tree line and that I ought to get back to the house because it was starting to get dark and my mum was probably almost finished cooking tea.

I got up and brushed my self off. I slung the rifle over my shoulder and started walking towards the house. That was when I saw it, behind the house off in the distance. A stream of blinding white light shot from the sky above Melbourne. A deafening crack roared out across the night sky, I saw the sky light up as if by an explosion. Large plumes of smoke began rising from Melbourne.

**Jarl**

 * Prologue**

The drums of war sounded as the horde of barbarians charged down the hillside towards the village of Glivendale. The crash of hoofs and the cries of the warriors echoed across the valley as they drew ever closer.

The voice of his mother awoke Jarl from his slumber. “Jarl, we must flee, Balder’s army approaches,” she cried as she pulled the boy to his feet. Outside Jarl could hear screaming. They made their way to the back of their hut. Jarl watched as his mother kicked out the mossed wall of twigs and stones. “Quickly Jarl go through,” Jarl crawled through the opening before him. He felt the moss cold on his skin, and then he felt warmth almost burning as he came out the other side.

Around him his village burned. Behind him he heard voices then the cries of a woman, “Mother!” he screamed “Run Jarl,” He ran through the village, chaos was all around him, people he had known all his life were either dead or fleeing too.

He and some others ran to the bridge that led away from the village… away from the massacre. They reached the middle of it. The sickening whine of horses sounded in front and behind them. The villages cowered before the horses and their riders, they were trapped on the bridge a nearby man grabbed Jarl. “Please” he cried to the nearest barbarian “Let me and my son live, I beg of you He is but a boy!”

The barbarian laughed, he rode towards the man and Jarl. Jarl gazed at the man atop the horse, his face was dirty and scarred; he had clearly fought many battles. The villager released Jarl and stepped forward “Please spare us,” The barbarian grunted as he swung his axe down into the man’s skull. Blood spattered across Jarls face, Jarl fell to the ground crying the corpse fell next to him. The surrounding horsemen laughed.

The villages pleaded for their lives. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. Jarl became numb to the world. He heard the cries of his friends and the barbarians’ laughter; he felt the blood of their victims spatter on him. But he could only think of his mother.

He was pulled back into the nightmare around him when one of the barbarians wrenched him from the stone surface of the bridge. He was thrown into the air. Jarl cried out in pain as he landed again on the bridge. His arms collapsed underneath his weight. It was then he realised the other villagers were all dead.

He scrabbled to his feet and turned to run; only to collide with another barbarian and be pushed to the ground. He cried again and again the barbarians laughed. “Come on then!” “Get up and fight!” Jarl only cried. “I know what will get you on your feet!” cried the barbarian in a sickeningly excited tone.

Jarl watched him walk to his horse and pull something from the saddle. “SAY HELLO TO MOTHER!” roared the barbarian as he threw her severed head to Jarl. He gazed at the bloodied head beneath him. All around him the barbarians laughed. Jarl rose to his feet, enraged he cried out and ran towards the man. The barbarian waited for Jarl to reach him. When he did he took a mighty swing and broke Jarls jaw with the back of his gauntlet.

“ENOUGH!” came the sudden roar from behind Jarl. Moments before he lost consciousness Jarl saw a barbarian who could only be Balder himself. He stood seven feet tall, his face was thick and scarred, His beard braided, his eyes were black as the night and his hair was a black mane. His armour was made of many carcasses Jarl awoke in a small tent, a fire burned gently nearby. His jaw ached, he tried to groan but this made the pain worsen. He rose to his feet and made his way outside. He was in the barbarians’ campsite; there were horses and tents all around him. He could feel the icy breeze on his face, it was morning.
 * Chapter 1**

The sky was dark and menacing and it was raining heavily. He realised that he was alone out here. He looked out towards the mountains, then once more at his surroundings.

He ran past horses and the tents that contained the still slumbering barbarians until he found his way out of the camp. He made his way up a nearby slope. It was muddy and the wet grass slid beneath his feet. He fell to the ground. Mud and grass pressed against his hands and knees.

He was cold, wet and hungry. He pressed on, half walking half climbing the slope. He reached the top and made his way into the forest. Its’ tall shadowed trees beckoned to him.

He walked for a time then stopped in a small clearing. He sat on a nearby log and glanced up at the sky. It was still dark made more so by the forest canopy. Around him he heard birds and other animals amongst the trees. The grass was long and all around him were shrubs and ferns.

When he was well rested he got to his feet and began to leave the clearing. At this moment a small group of barbarians came out of the tree line and surrounded him.

“Stupid boy!” “Did you really think you could escape?” The leading barbarian punched Jarl in the stomach “That’ll teach you!” Jarl was thrown to the ground and beaten. “Alright, that’s enough for now,” ordered the Leading barbarian

They led him back to their campsite. Jarl felt feelings of misery, hate and anger wash over him. He was in agony, his body was a wreck. Jarl ignored the pain and continued on back to the camp.

BruTaL stood to his feet, an enraged roar erupting from his jaws. He charged to his nearest adversary, the ground shaking beneath his feet. He stood eight feet tall and was built like a ‘f*#king brick wall’. His axe was almost as terrifying, it’s haft as thick as a small tree and its blood stained head the size of a goat. He brought this mammoth of a weapon down on his enemy, who had by this point pissed his pants (literally). The feeble man burst in a cloud of blood and gore. An arm this way, a leg that way and his head; a chunk of chest and neck still attached, falling at BruTaLs feet. BruTaL bent down and ripped the head from what was left of the torso a spray of blood splashing across his face. A twisted grin formed on BruTaLs face as he looked up at the other men charged with his assassination. His dark soulless eyes had only one message for the fool’s who dared provoke him, ‘Time to die’.

He launched himself into the air and with another roar swung his Axe in a wide arc. Two of his attackers were cleaved in half at the waist; one of them was torn from the bottom of his rib cage on his left side right through to below his shoulder on his right side. The final man, the most misfortunate, was caught on the end of the axe by his shield.

BruTaL finished his swing satisfied with its result. He soon noticed the man stuck on the end of his axe. He let out a sickening laugh. The man screamed again as BruTaL plucked him from the axe. “I might have some fun with you!” But it was no use, BruTaL was a murdering psychopath. He threw the man in the air and caught one of his legs as he came down. BruTaL began slamming the man into the ground again and again. The man screamed a few more times then carked it.
 * “Please have mercy,”**
 * “BAHAHAHAHA!”**
 * “Please I beg you,”**

BruTaL collected the heads of his foes. He placed them in a bag and slung it over his shoulder. He then continued on to Castle Death Metal, running as he went and any unlucky traveller he met on the way ended up in the bag.

Outland
I open my front gate and begin making my way down the street. Small stones crunch beneath my feet as I start jogging along the footpath. The city is still quiet; it’s only about 6am. I take in my surroundings, crappy run down houses jammed next to each other. Industrial factories off in the distance, smoke billowing from their chimneys. I round the corner. Then something sharp hits me in the neck.

I wake up in my bed, what a shitty dream. I slouch up and smack my skull against the roof. Wait what the fuck? The roof? Suddenly a blue ripple erupts from where I bumped my head. It dashes across the transparent screen above me. The light reveals that I’m in some kind of…pod sort of thing.

What the fuck is going on? I wriggle my arms about. I try to move my legs. I can’t feel anything below my waist. I reach out and smack at the screen with my arms. “Help me! Is anyone there! Help me!”

Then I see a shape move past the screen. What ever it is it completely ignores me. “Hey! Get me outta here!” I scream, sending blue ripples dancing across the screen as I bash at it with all my might.

I’m starting to panic, where the fuck am I? I ask myself. I give up punching the screen. I look down at my feet and start wriggling them. After a while I start kicking at the screen, it’s no use, all I’ve done is cause more flashes of light above me.

All the kicking and punching I’ve just done has taken its toll. I’m panting and I can feel the air getting thinner with each breath. I’m becoming desperate; I kick and punch until I can’t anymore. It’s starting to get really hard to breathe.

I take a few more desperate gasps for air and then there’s no more. I’m suffocating, I feel my eyes getting heavy; my body’s starting to go limp. I force my eyes open. The screen above me shines brightly and then disappears. A gush of wind bursts into the pod. I gasp and try to sit up. I fall to the floor its cold black surface bashing against my ribs. I slouch up taking another gasp for air. Then I vomit up some weird shit that I don’t remember eating. It’s purple with weird blue chunks in it.

I look up to a flashing screen at the head of my pod. It won’t stop beeping, ‘Air Tank Empty’. I lift myself up using the pod for support. I’m in a small room, the walls are just as black as the floor but with the occasional gleam of blue light rippling across them.

I stumble across the room and out of an arched door. I look left and then right, I’m in a narrow passageway, the walls in here aren’t flashing at all. I decide I’ll head left. I walk a few metres slouching against the wall and then notice another room similar to the one I just came from.

I walk through the door, leaning against its frame, then I see it another pod and it’s got someone inside it.

Medieval Poem
They walk the shadows silently The moonlight guides their way They know what awaits them But this is the only way

Calmly it awaits them Within the forest depths Every footstep taken Brings them closer to their deaths

They walk the shadowed path Beneath the tall dead trees None so brave to face the beast But these noble three

A roar is heard upon the night sky Terrible it remains Seen by all… Is the burning red flame

Then a mournful pain filled cry Was the beast vanquished? Or did those brave three die?