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Just letting folk know that [livejournal.com profile] just_viggo and all other RP pups are now on summer break - hopefully to return sometime after the end of September :)
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Hi all

I am retiring [livejournal.com profile] just_viggo from the [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse community with immediate effect. I no longer have the time or inclination to respond to the challenges and it seems selfish of me to hang onto the character when there might be someone out there who would really like to use him as a writing journal.

I am retaining this journal of course as [livejournal.com profile] just_viggo will continue to RP blissfully with [livejournal.com profile] just_sean until [livejournal.com profile] moldava and me are old ladies (actually I'm an old lady now, but you know what I mean)

Anyway - just thought I'd let folks know...

[livejournal.com profile] liars_dance
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The biggest mistake? Believing it'd be forever. Oh, my mom warned me enough times but I wouldn't listen. I loved her - heart and soul. I used to paint her pictures - write her poetry - pick her flowers from other people's back yards... But it wasn't enough - I wasn't enough. There were so many other things she wanted - like a pony, a big swimming pool - and be the center of everybody's attention. But I guess that's what a lot of nine year olds want. And in the end, she broke my 10 year old heart.

Some twenty years later I made the same mistake - except by then I had more of a conscience about stealing folk's flowers…

But right now the biggest mistake I could make would be to take what I've got for granted. And watching him sleep - as I'm doing this minute as I write about this, I know I won't let that happen. What we've got is just way too good to risk losing.
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Yeah - I do. I simply don't think all that spiritual energy can just disappear when a person dies - or be lost. It has to go somewhere - manifest itself in some form or other - or in some alternate dimension. I'm not saying I believe in ghost stories - old ladies with silver hair wailing and floating around in the attics of stately homes - or the idea that folk who died violently or early or something come back to sort things out (even if I do think I'd stay in this world to watch over Demi Moore). I just believe that their spirit - their energy - lives on.

I like to think for example that such energy transforms itself - so the energy from my old dog now resides in the tree that she used to love to lie under - and her energy is helping it grow... And that the spirits of old friends who spent a lot of their lives walking in the hills, have become part of the land they loved... Now that's a ghost story I can believe in...
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"I never thought I'd say this, but..."
I feel the urge to go on vacation somewhere - to Cuba or India or Europe. And I'm surprising myself for even thinking about it, cause I do enough travelling as it is with making movies and then going on the premiere tours. But the thing is, you never get to stay in the same goddamn place for more than a couple of days and I'm getting tired of all that. And when its all done, all I want to do is to get home, see my son, take care of my horses and shut out the world. So now its weird because I want to see a place for its own sake - get to know it a little - check out the food - learn about the culture, the politics... And go walking of course. So, Sean - fancy taking a trip with me? How about Nepal? We could trek around Annapurna and go rafting on the Seti river. It'd be amazing - and I promise we'll take along a supply of those weird looking things in tins that you call pies...


Nov. 19th, 2006 04:16 pm
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Think sunrise, think New Zealand - it’s the land of the most incredible skies I've ever seen. Skies that were all at once dark pink and deep gold and charcoal and blue. I saw a good many of them whether I wanted to or not - we had many early calls - but I never tired of them, or the man who saw many of them with me. I remember particularly the sunrise the day after my birthday - my forty second birthday to be exact. I remember staring out at the changing sky at dawn - the first morning in days when we could have slept late but I'd been awake since three, thinking about things - ruminating, Sean calls it. He says I do too much thinking... But that morning I stood there looking at the sky and worried about running out of sunrises - worried that our time over there together was running out too. And suddenly I was promising myself that I'd get up every damn morning until it was time to go home so I wouldn't waste a single minute with him. Of course, he had other ideas as I recall. And after he joined me at the window and agreed that it was indeed a beautiful sky, we talked about what would happen when we'd finished filming. No need to say exactly what we said except that it seems we'd both been worrying about the same thing. And then Sean suggested we go back to bed for a while. Something about another birthday present left to open...

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Not a what - a who. Bean - and I wouldn't change a thing. Sorry, did I say that out loud? Okay - rewind that tape. I'm assuming this question is more to do with things that a person would prefer not to keep them awake at night... Very little keeps me up at night, now I think about it. I sleep like the dead most nights - so long as I haven't eaten too late. Or drunk too much red wine - or vodka, both of which tend to make me crash out - like I'm in a coma - but then I'm wide awake at some crazy hour and totally unable to get back to sleep. Which brings me back to Bean because before he moved in, I'd get up and paint or read or something. Now I have more options...

I guess the worst thing is lying awake worrying about something or other - often Henry - though he's not done anything weird or wild to make me worry. I just worry because he's my son and as a father I think worrying about the future for your child is part of the deal. Having someone to talk to about those worries sure helps - and that brings me back to Bean again...

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If being a rebel means doing my own thing when society suggests I do something else then yeah, I guess I’m a bit of a rebel. If it means caring more about the long term than the short, then yeah - I’m a rebel. I remember turning up at my graduation without a cap and gown because I disagreed with the working practices of the company that made the things. My parents weren’t too impressed as I recall, but it mattered to me more that I made a statement - even if no-one else gave a damn. Like I said when SLU invited me back this year, activist isn’t a dirty word. Doing something because you believe in it is a good thing. Caring about the future of the planet, of the population - and being prepared to say something about it - to disagree with the politician’s is a very good thing. More people need to do it. And I’ll keep on doing it while there’s breath in my body.


Sep. 5th, 2006 08:03 am
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I believe in it - always have - always will - period. I used to be kinda shy around women when I was younger - self conscious, clumsy, you know? So any relationship that I formed was important to me. And I guess I was raised to think of the feelings of others as being just as important as mine - something to be cared for, protected. And now I'm older with a marriage and a divorce behind me, nothing's changed. I still go into a relationship wanting it to be something. I'm way too old to be fooling around, just wanting casual sex or to be playing with some other person's feelings. Besides, what I've got now I would do anything - and I mean anything to protect. Because he's way too important. And who in hell could possibly want anybody else when they've got Sean Bean in their head, in their heart and in their bed?

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Have I ever woken up in the morning and not remembered what I did the night before? Oh yeah - quite a few times. And although there were a good many in my youth - I was kind of wild for a while - some of the most memorable and consistent losses of time were while I was shooting the Rings. When I look back at those times, there was a common denominator - sort of a fixed variable if you get my meaning - when things got out of control - and that was Bernard Hill. You know, I recall Philippa saying on a commentary somewhere once that when Bernard and I met up, that we formed some kind of unholy alliance. I guess she was right. He brought out the crazy in me - the wildness of youth. Fuck knows how we managed to make our mark some days... Anyway, even if I can't recall too clearly what we did sometimes, I know I enjoyed Bernard's company and that he became a good friend. And along with some other wonderful people, he helped me deal with missing my son - and Bean going home...


Jun. 30th, 2006 07:15 pm
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If I hadn't have overcome my initial reluctance to go so far away from my son for so long a time, I'd never have become Aragorn and become part of one of the most incredible movies ever made. I'd never have had the opportunity to see so much of that beautiful country - met some of its wonderful people or witnessed its amazing sunrises. Okay, so I probably wouldn't have broken my tooth or my toes or gotten myself talked into going surfing with some crazy but wonderful young guys when I really should've known better...

I'd never have had the opportunity to speak a beautifully crafted and utterly unique language, or work alongside some amazingly talented actors including one of my all time acting heroes. If I hadn't have become Aragorn, I'd never have become Frank Hopkins or become Tom Stall - because I just know I wouldn't have gotten those parts without him. And most importantly, if I hadn't had become Aragorn, I'd never have met Boromir - and I'd have never fallen in love...

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Injustice, violation of basic human rights, deliberate senseless cruelty to people and animals, short term political thinking, lack of political will and leadership, the appalling state of our health care system - in which our citizens suffer whilst enormous profits go to drug companies, private medical administration businesses and insurance companies, from overpriced drugs, superfluous bureaucracy and general inefficiency - Jesus -the list is endless... But even that's nothing compared to how I feel when I can't find something - like a document or a script - something that I know I left somewhere really safe, but I also know that Bean has moved somewhere else while he's been tidying things away. And if he isn't around to enlighten me as to its whereabouts, it then becomes almost like a game in which I have to second guess what he was thinking about when he moved the damn thing in the first place. And the other thing that drives me crazy is when he turns and folds and reorganises the whole damn newspaper all ways up so I can't find a goddamn thing that I want to read...

But then he'll look at me and those eyes'll glint all gold and green and he'll say something that just blows me away.


May. 14th, 2006 05:35 pm
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I said before when you asked me about my father that I don't like talking about my parents - that stuff's private. So I'm not going to talk about my mother. But I remember this boy's mother in Argentina when I was a kid. It wasn't easy making friends at first and there was a whole lot of space between us and our nearest neighbors but finally I got to meet the family. There was nine children in the house which seemed incredible to me but she always seemed to give each one an equal amount of her attention. I reckon she must have got up before dawn to do all the things she needed to on the farm as well as look after all those kids and at the time I recall she had four of them under six years old. But even though she looked tired when I think back on it, she never seemed to act it. I spent a lot of time there during holidays and stuff - it was one of the ways I learned the language - but I never once heard her raise her voice. I didn't understand more than half of what she was saying but she always had a smile for me and a cuddle and I was included in everything she did for her own kids. Most of all I remember her laugh - a wonderful warm sound - which is appropriate because I reckon she was one of the warmest people I ever met.

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Completeness. That's what I miss - the completeness of being with someone who is just so right that even knowing they're in the next room reading the paper makes you feel warm inside. Funny - because up until a year or so ago, I never had that completeness - so therefore I couldn't miss it. But strangely I did. I missed the relationship we never had even though I know now that we'd connected other than in my dreams. But can you miss something you never had? I don't know. All I do know is that I can drive myself slowly crazy thinking of things like that. So it's a good thing we both believed in the power of connections and that I've got him in my life now - so he can tell me to stop thinking crazy things - to stop worrying about things that I can't control. Ever the pragmatic Yorkshireman, he knows just what to say to bring me out of one of my thinking too hard moods.

And right now he's not here; not because he wants to be away, but because he has to be. But that doesn't comfort me. I miss that completeness - of knowing that everything's right; I miss him... And although I've closed my eyes, I can't even imagine that he's in the next room. Come home soon.

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Going for a drink with Bean in London a year or so back. It was the first time we'd managed to get together for christ knows how long and although there was so much appeal in just staying in the hotel room all night, Bean managed to talk me into going for a couple of pints. Big fucking mistake. At first it seemed okay, the bar he chose was still fairly quiet and we managed to talk without getting interrupted too oftenby requests for autographs or by women saying 'say, are you really Sean Bean?' or 'hey - it's Aragorn and Boromir!' Oh yeah, really fucking original - and worse of course, they just had to be American didn't they - which meant twice as fucking loud too...

But I managed a pint in that place and we talked about this and that, about movie projects and our kids and then Bean decided to move on to somewhere else and maybe get something to eat. No chance of that. It was happy hour and the women in the second place were worse than the first - and worse for drink too. Fangirls, Bean called them - a really wild bunch. We were only there for ten minutes, had just got a drink before the women started crowding in - getting much too close and staring like they expected us to do something. So we did. One nod from Sean and we were outta there, running down the street and into a cab and back to my hotel. Believe me, there isn't anything scarier than those fangirls...

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I don't really want to do this - talk about my father on demand, I mean. It's not something I feel comfortable doing other than maybe recalling some experience we shared. My parents have their lives - separate lives - for nearly 40 years and who they are and what they do is no business of anybody's but their own. And mine - and my brothers' from time to time... Knowing something about my father isn't going to help anyone understand me - except me, I guess. So what I'll say about him is all in the public domain already; nothing new here...

He's Danish - hence the name. I'm his oldest son and he gave me his name. His work took us to South America when I was two; he ran farms and ranches in Argentina and Venezuela. Living there meant I learned Spanish and I'm grateful for that; languages are important. There he taught me to fish and I'm grateful for that too. And I learned how to ride. He's my father and I love him; what else can I say?

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I'm not sure I want to say anything about failure, except that any day that goes by where I don't do what I want to do, achieve what I set out to achieve, that kind of thing - is in some ways a failure. Because there's no excuse to not do those things. I have the resources - time, health, functional capacity, money - and I have the freedom to choose how to use them. I guess I'm fortunate that way so to waste those resources is like a failure on my part. And its good to think of it that way because its good to remind yourself that you're one hell of a lot better off than some folk who aren't in a position to choose - because of poverty or ill-health or political repression.

So that's my take on failure. Each day I have the capacity to succeed or fail and its up to me to make that choice. I'm sorry if you were expecting me to say that my greatest failure was not getting the part of Vida Boheme in Wong Foo. And for the record, I don't hold a grudge against Patrick Swayze - he was way prettier than me...

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Dear Sean

I'm not saying I've been afraid to write this letter - more surprised that I'm doing it now. Maybe I'm writing it because I want you to know all this stuff but don't want to waste time telling you. And I don't mean waste time in the way you'll think I mean - more that when I'm with you, there's other stuff I want to say - and do. I just don't want to to lose these thoughts so I'm writing it down. When I've finished, I might not even send you it - but keep it locked away somewhere so I know its there. Anyway, I'll get on with it.

The last year has been pretty damn special. We've shared a lot and we've learned a lot - especially about each other - some of these things for my part I somehow expected - the warmth, the mindblowing sex, but others not so much. Let me tell you about a couple of those things.

First up, I didn't expect to smile so goddamn much. I wake up with a dozy grin on my face and it's because I can feel your breath on my neck. When I stand in the shower I smile because I remember something you said or a look on your face when you're eating something you never tasted before. It doesn't matter what you're telling me, just the fact that you are - that we're sharing thoughts and experiences, hurts and laughter.

I didn't expect to want to cry so much. Because you make me feel so much I suppose. Sometimes I cry because everything feels so good...

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that.

Love you,


Dec. 10th, 2005 08:46 am
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Funny you should ask that, because I've been thinking recently that life is good - easy, satisfying, full of hope for the future. And if that all adds up to happiness in someone's book, then yes - I'm pretty damned happy. But I still believe that happiness is relative - you can only judge yourself to be happy against other things in your life and how others feel about you. I can't be happy when those I love are not.

You know - I remember reading the biography of a man who felt he was happy, who took pride in his work, his family life, that kind of thing. However, it seems his children secretly despised him, his wife secretly scorned him by having innumerable affairs and his work was a source of ridicule amongst others, who kept their opinion from him. So it seems that every source of satisfaction in this man's life was built upon a falsehood, a deception. Could he really be said to be happy? Was it a good life? See - I don't think so.

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I try not to look in a mirror most days - except to shave of course. Damn cleft in my chin means I need to see what I'm doing. I guess Bean would say that I need to look in a mirror occasionally to see if what I'm wearing looks okay but I figure what the hell? If it's clean and it fits, I'll wear it... But what do I think when I look in the mirror? That I’m lucky enough to live my life the way I want to live it and that I have folk who love me no matter what I do.

Maybe also that I'm getting older - and that I've still so much to do - to see - other than the increasing amount of gray at my temples and a few more lines round my eyes. Not that getting older bothers me particularly - more that every birthday reminds me now that I need to keep filling each day, live them all to the full and enjoy every precious moment - not let them just pass on by. And I’m doing that – with those I love.

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