My Redemption Arc

I'm in a forgiving mood

During the solar eclipse this week, I achieved a sort of moral clarity that few men can dream of—even in various temporal states of nut. As we watched, eyes naked, expectant under the path of totality, fellas shotgunning Busch Light and setting off fireworks as the sky approached pure darkness, as all this human beauty overwhelmed my senses, as it all began to clarify—I realized the error of my ways. I have been holding onto so much resentment. There are so many people I must forgive, so many people whom I have loathed for nary a good reason!

There was something in the air at 3:23pm EST in Syracuse, New York (solar eclipse). Something unquantifiable (a natural phenomenon that scientists have been able to predict with accuracy). To the average chump who didn’t find themselves in the path of totality, who hadn’t moved to the Central NY region within the past two years, maybe you’re not about this life. I’m guessing this doesn’t make sense to you if you just saw it in some fake ass non-path location. I’m speaking a language you can’t comprehend, brother. But to the homies who know—you know. Our souls were fucking altered.

There’s that Substack thing going around where people anonymously write about anodyne things that they hate, that no one would disagree with. I’m going to be open and upfront about the things that I hate. I’m saying it with my damn chest. And now—today? I’m taking it all back. I would like to offer my apologies the following:

Chloe Grace Moretz

I don’t know why I can’t stand you, but I refuse to watch your movies. There’s something that’s not clicking for me about your whole deal. No more! Bring on The Peripheral season 3 on Amazon Prime, queen—I’m in the front row.

Sean Evans

I think we can make it work going forward, brother. I don’t fw your general vibe and kind of everything you represent. That’s been well-documented. We all understand that. But today? Post-eclipse? I’m giving us one more shot. What do you say?

This Guy

Don’t really know you or watch that many of your videos but your shit gets recommended to me all the time. I’ve been pretty averse to the faces you make historically. But that ends now. I am all in.

These Two Actors

The first guy is Katey Sagal’s son and the second guy is Dimes Square/Ion Pack-adjacent. I vow to no longer become irrationally angry when I see your faces onscreen! I vow it!

Georges Niang

I’m sure there’s a reason you have an NBA contract. There has to be. And now, after we all witnessed the solar eclipse on April 8, I will be doing the work to find out why. Rest assured that once I do, my attitude towards you will change, Georges.

Jon Bass

My man—I had to look up what your name was. But if I’m being honest? Your face has haunted me for years. I forced to watch a scene in the movie Baywatch (2017) where you got your boner stuck in a beach chair for two minutes. And I’ve held onto the subsequent hatred for seven years. I can feel it beginning to dissipate, though. Give me another seven years and we may be good to go.

My Man Ziad

@ziadahmedthe fact that he immediately eye-rolled when i shared my pronouns tells you everything you need to know about how the rest of this @VICE debate between Asian Americans across the political spectrum went. i shared my longer thoughts on being a part of this on my IG, but wanna be clear here too that while ofc the way it’s been edited obscures a lot of context/chronology and while ofc i wish i said/did somethings differently — i will never be sorry for making my values clear. #asianamerican #vicedebates

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For years, you have been my nemesis. A Satan specifically designed to make me ill. My Feud: Truman Capote vs. The Swans (don’t know what that is). Listening to your specific cadence of speech makes me—a generally nonviolent person—want to inflict pain onto the next South Asian man I see. But that’s not fair of me any more. I have seen the light, or lack thereof. And now I know that you have no choice but to be unbelievably annoying. It’s in your nature (Yale). No hard feelings, dude. I am sorry.

So Many Other People In My Personal Life

A blanket apology to anyone for all things in my personal life, generally speaking.

I do not want to suffer any personal consequences for this Substack, kind of like that whole thing with Ayo Edebiri and J-Lo on SNL. Would be funny if somehow I find myself on Hot Ones one day. I’m like so distraught the whole week before. I can’t sleep. The day of, I head over to the dressing room before taping and knock on Sean’s door. I’m fucking sobbing. I’m like, “Dude, I really didn’t mean it. I swear.” He smirks. Looks down. Gets up out of his chair. He pulls me in for a hug. I bury myself in his chest. My tears are sliding down the water-repellant exterior of whatever bomber jacket he’s got on that day. He smooths out the back of my hair. In his patent monotone, he whispers, “Don’t stress, king. I hate myself, too. Why do you think I do this? Fame is an egotistical death drive. This is all performance art. I subject myself to all this torturous spice to hollow out whatever humanity is left inside me. I want to show the world that we are all numb, unfeeling caverns of gluttony. Every week I scoop out more of my corporeal gourd, for everyone’s entertainment. And they laugh. They laugh and laugh. Because that’s all we can do. That’s what this is all about.” I look up into his eyes—my vision’s blurry cause of the tears. He pulls out a Kleenex from his pocket. He whispers, “Promise me you’ll never think about this again. Promise me I never catch you crying over me again. Please.” I nod. He dabs away my tears. He goes, “I hope this is my Last Dab.” I laugh. He’s so fucking funny, dude.

Ritam’s Footnote

The thing that makes all humans special is the capacity for forgiveness. This beautiful quality will serve us well as we look to take our next steps among the stars.

—Osama Bin Laden