/Star Wars makes me feel a lot of things which are hard to put into words, maybe it’s most crudely put, and revealingly put when I say ‘I want to be Star Wars’ because if I try and flesh it out with – ‘I want to be x in Star Wars’ I can never find the true sentence, when I try and concretely work it out, as I don’t want to act in it, I don’t want to design it, I don’t want to film it, I don’t want to direct it, although it’s possible that I want to write it, rather I want to be absorbed by the complex continuum of elements which make up Star Wars, which, if it is a consistent whole, is a crazy super-object which includes zones affected by thousands of people, the writers and directors, thousands of designers and concept artists and many thousands of manifold experiences I have had as a child and young adult, and the structural relations of the story and other stories and myths and emotions, and the complex expectations which I have of Star Wars as I watch it (governed by hundreds of other films I have seen, and stories I have read, people I have known) which combine and create a strange almost ‘sublime’ overload which is maybe an up-welling of strong lines of emotional affect, of enjoyment and agreement with message, map, territory, and the being of the multiple work of art that Star Wars is, which is bound up with a kind of attraction, a call to meditation, an enjoyment of and towards the thing – like an enchanted sea which pulls you towards it and you lose yourself in the waves…

Basically I need to stop being selfish and not trying to create because I can’t create all of an idealised thing which is actually the record of a hard to define or impossible community, and stop being afraid of trying, if that’s what it is (it’s definitely one way of saying it) and though it’s hard to remember it in the midst of things, there are other, worthy ‘stories’ to let go, but the feeling we call by the unsatisfactory name of ‘being a part of something’ is hard to shake or replace/