In late 2019, it was my good fortune to take a road trip from Colorado to California with a legendary gentleman by the name of Hugo.

He’s a master carpenter, a fantastic neon artist, and an outdoor adventurer the likes of which I’ve yet to meet again (despite being nearly 40 years my elder, he could hike and climb much faster than me). He was born and raised in the same town as Che Guevara and Lionel Messi. He’s lived and worked on five continents, can converse in three languages (that I know of), and last I heard is currently leading the renovation of a castle in Spain (where he unwinds by doing yoga in a studio that houses original artworks by Dali and Picasso).

I know sometimes I exaggerate in my writings for comedic effect, so I feel the need to clarify to you that Hugo is a real person I know, and 100% of what I just described about him is true. I’m convinced he was the inspiration for the Dos Equis man.

Anyway during this roadtrip, against the backdrop of the mountains and deserts of the American West, Hugo told me all kinds of great stories about his adventures and some hilarious jokes he picked up along the way. He was a real man’s man on the surface, but could carry a conversation with sensitivity and tact. This trip had me feeling like I was Bruce Chatwin , jotting down all the great anecdotes and observations I was collecting along the way.

But I made one critical mistake.

Did I document all this with a pen and pad? Or did I use my fucking Twitter drafts like a fucking dumbass fucking idiot?

My heart sank when I unwittingly updated the app, at which point I discovered that Twitter’s iOS app stores drafts on your device and wipes them out across updates...

A needle drops on a a vinyl record and crackles -- the sound of my immortal Internet gimmick reverberates.

I was out for revenge, so naturally I called an emergency board meeting.

ME: We need to buy Twitter. Now.
BOARD MEMBER #3: But Lil Shoyaright!, we’re already right in the middle of acquiring [REDACTED]!
ME: (sotto voce) I really enjoyed that road trip, man. I gotta get those drafts back!!!
BOARD MEMBER #5: I’m sorry Big Shoya but....what road trip?
ME: We can sell as soon as I get those drafts, I’m sure Eli Musk will wanna buy it, that kid loves my sloppy seconds.

Yeah so even though I’ll never get back every little detail that I wrote down during that trip, I cherish the memories that stay with me. The whole ordeal was a lesson in what those who practice the Eastern spiritual traditions call vairagya, or detachment. I am in the world but not of the world. Neither are you. If we’re lucky, we’ll go places where we just can’t take Twitter drafts, we'll only have space for the light in our eyes.