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I was born in 1979. I was obsessed with Star Wars by the time I was 5. I remember watching Jedi over and over again at the Ritenours’ house. (Maybe that’s why I’m dating one of those Ritenours now. I banked on his Star Wars Blue Ray boxed set coming as part of the package.)
Over the last 30 years, I’ve fallen in love with other obsessions, but J.J. Abrams’ interpretation of the next chapter in our beloved Star Wars saga has me more excited than rumors of an upcoming Springsteen tour announcement. The trailers give me chills. (Don’t fuck it up, Abrams. Please, please, don’t fuck this up).