Podcast Episode 12: That Time A ghost town leads to a revelation in the stalking

Some goodbyes require a road trip. This one required a full tank, a packed passport, and a skeleton onesie. Jen and Jeff are driving out of El Paso and into the West Texas desert to bury one of the six people Jen calls family.

Gil Prather was a Mensa-level genius, a mentor, and the one person who kept telling her, for years, that she processed the world differently than everyone around her. She spent a long time arguing with him about that. She is finally ready to admit he was right. What she is not ready for is what the desert does to people who are already paying too much attention.

Because West Texas is a vortex. Hours of nothing between towns, a breakfast spot that technically sits in another country, a friend who arrives in something closer to a tank than a car, and a lunch table so improbable that Jen would not believe it herself if her husband had not been sitting right beside her. In the middle of all of it, something happens that has never happened to her before, a new way of perceiving two strangers that she has no language for, and no idea what to do with. So she asks the only person she trusts to explain it: her eighth grade art teacher. The answer she gets back reframes everything.

Then there is the funeral itself, which is less a service than a twenty-four-hour jam band send-off in a ghost town, and Jen, the woman who gives a very good funeral, quietly running the logistics in a black tulle dress. It ends the only way a life like Gil's could end. And somewhere between the river, the ceremony, and the after-after party, a thought surfaces about the person who has been following her for months. One detail about this trip does not fit the pattern.

That detail is a tell. Grief, genius, and a diagnosis that keeps getting louder. This is the episode where the middle of nowhere finally hands Jen a direction.

That Time a Ghost Town Leads to a Revelation in the Stalking — a story about being seen on every level, hearing what nobody else hears, and the kind of goodbye that sends everyone home carrying a piece of it.

Talk Nerdy To Me® - Episode 12 Transcript

EP. 12 - That Time A ghost town leads to a revelation in the stalking

 West Texas is shockingly a great place to go if you're being stalked. No one is going to find you, and I think that's the point.

Oh, and also, if you Google Jack Dorsey and Rick Rubin, it's me dressed as Cleopatra sitting next to Buzz Aldrin. I really am always in costume for big life moments.

Welcome to Talk Nerdy to Me. This is the unbelievably true story. Once you hear it, you may never experience your own life in the same way.

Jen and Jeff were driving to Terlingua for a celebration of life. Gil Prather, one of their business partners at the West Texas Investors Club, had died. Gil was a genius in his own right, a Mensa member who spent years telling Jen she processed the world differently. She was finally ready to admit he'd nailed it.

Jen researched the route out of El Paso through West Texas like she researches everything, which is obsessively. Every traveler told her the same two things: "Stop at the specific markets," and, "Keep your tank full because there are hours of stretch between cities."

But West Texas is a vortex. Weird, magical things happen out there. Case in point, Jack Dorsey and Rick Rubin were casually eating lunch a few feet away, and Jen, in her skeleton onesie, flipped open her laptop right in front of them. This was not a stage, this was not an event, and it was definitely not a press line.

Rick brought his wife and kids. Two of arguably the most influential people in their entire industries were eating lunch together in the middle of the desert in a place that may or may not technically be a restaurant, and Jeff and I happened to be there too. It was intimate, and I knew it was intimate.

I also knew it was a tremendous opportunity because I now know I have these gifts in reading people, and what are the odds that I now get to test this out on these two people? I went into something close to a trance studying them both. It was the most intentionally tuned in I have ever been in my entire life.

If a pore had enlarged on either one of them in that exact moment, I would have heard it. All I had to do was make sure I didn't get caught, and considering the unbelievable proximity, it was definitely possible.

I taught myself to lip read at four years old when my parents started mouthing things to each other across the room. My undiagnosed autism was showing early because I would then announce out loud what they had just silently said to each other. They were impressed, but they also started to then cover their mouths.

Given the extreme intimacy I was witnessing, I was very cautious to not lip read their conversation, but only tune in, quote unquote, using my Spidey skills, taking all of this as the incredible opportunity that it was.

Jen was sitting there, not reading lips, just watching, fully locked in. And then something happened that had never happened before. She noticed there was a tone attached to each of them, a literal tone, a sound coming from each of them.

Jack had a buzz, like a radar sweep, beeping, scanning, fast, with beats in between, the sound of a machine checking the room over and over and over.

And Rick Rubin sounded like Om.

At the time, I foolishly had no idea who Rick Rubin was. I did not know his catalog, and I especially did not know that he is a very serious meditator. I just literally heard Om.

This is the man who helped popularize hip hop and produce the Beastie Boys, Run DMC, ZZ Top, Jay-Z, LL Cool J, Metallica, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Oh yeah, and also Rage Against the Machine, The Strokes, Weezer, Aerosmith, Linkin Park, and Johnny Cash. One person produced all those different types of genres.

He also produced Baby Got Back, which is my karaoke peanut butter jelly and jam.

Not wanting to miss the chance to talk to Jack, she waited until he cleared his plate from the table before approaching him.

"Mr. Jack," Jen said quietly, out of respect. "Thank you for all of your contributions to the tech community. It's an honour to meet you. And Ben Parr says hello."

He laughed as he shook her hand. Jen had texted her chosen little brother and tech entrepreneur slash author that she was in front of him. She wanted to catch Jack off guard, so instead of talking about herself, she name-dropped Ben.

Jack left a short time later, as Jeff and I just sat there processing the vortex that is West Texas.

"I just met Jack Dorsey," I said, still not believing it.

"And Jack," Jeff replied, "gets to say today he met a skeleton."

Darn, I thought. His version of events might actually out-cool one of the coolest moments of my life.

Jen and Ben Parr have known each other for almost two decades. Their very dear friendship began when Jen successfully live-tweeted crashing the Grammy Awards to meet his boss, Pete Cashmore.

Jen got through six checkpoints without a connection or a clue. And not only did she make it onto the red carpet, where she said she would be, but she found him on said red carpet, which in and of itself was a spectacular feat given the massive crowds at events like this.

Ben was so impressed that he asked to meet with her. And as per Jen's usual, the rest became history.

Ben and Butch were the first two people Jen texted while sitting in front of Jack. Ben sent her a photo of himself with Jack, which she already knew about.

And Butch, an admitted Luddite, had no idea who Jen was talking about, but was very happy for her, confirming that this was a classic old Gil move.

After a full day of travel, my tired bones finally got to crash in a hammock outside our casita.

I then said to Jeff, "I'm surprised Rick and Jack are friends. Their sounds were so different. I don't know how to describe what I experience. I'm just surprised that people have these tones. I thought I only saw auras."

"I just didn't expect this. But I have to believe that now being diagnosed, it's intensifying certain things. Given that was an intense moment in general. But wow, this was a lot."

And Jeff said, "How do you describe that? Exactly like you just did. You don't need to overexplain yourself, although with the experiences that you have, I now get why you feel the need to so frequently. Part of your charm is inclusivity on what you experience."

The ceremony was not until Saturday, which left me an entire day to sit with the fact that I was about to bury one of the six people I call family.

Fortunately, we were able to get Wi-Fi at a local cafe, where I messaged my eighth-grade art teacher what I had just experienced with Jack and Rick. Jen's art teacher is somewhat of a mystic. She's deeply spiritual and seemed to know that she would understand exactly what Jen had experienced, which made her the perfect person to help Jen begin to process and make sense of it.

Everyone has a unique sound they emit and a unique visually discernible energy field. The visual field, aura, changes much more frequently than the sound, which may remain the same throughout one's entire life, only becoming louder or softer.

Your sound and aura must have been in a state of receptivity and likely harmonious with theirs.

To tune in even more through sound, find your unique sound by closing off the back of your throat. Think of stifling a yawn without opening your mouth and hum until you feel a sound with resonates into every cell of your being. You'll know it when you feel it. It's no longer just a sound. It's energetic essence manifesting audibly.

To increase your visual perception, stare at someone while focusing on their third eye. Then, without moving your eyes or changing your gaze, soften your eyes and expand your vision outwards so you're actually seeing the space around that person instead of just the person.

Possibly consider that Jack was sending out radar to connect with others' fields with whom he felt harmonious. Rick may have been emitting his true essence via sound.

"I hope this is helpful."

Later that day, Jeff mentioned how excited he was to meet Rooster and Butch, but also admitted that he had no idea what he was in for.

"Neither do I," Jen told him.

Then she reminded him that she had packed their passports just in case they ended up in Mexico, which for the record, was not a joke.

Their Airbnb had literally warned them about the breakfast place across the street. It might look like it was simply a place across the street, but technically it was in another country and required them to go through customs to reenter the country.

Eat there, and their options were either a five-thousand-dollar fine for crossing back in illegally or driving to clear border patrol at some undisclosed distance away.

Funny, considering it was also five thousand dollars to exterminate someone. Jen imagined that had happened in Terlingua more than just a few times.

The next day we went to see it, the actual place Gil called home, the Rio Grande.

As I stood in the river, that was hopefully still considered in the U.S., as the line got a little blurry and I only had intermittent GPS, I thought about the same river where Gil and Butch met many years ago.

Gil saw a hippie-looking kid, as he put it, and thought he might need some money for gas, so he offered him some spare change that he had had. Butch thought that was funny considering his helicopter was waiting for him not far from where they were.

Thus, a friendship was born, and Gil not only had a home on Rooster's property, but also a mini apartment set up in the helicopter hangar at Butch's place.

Being there, Jen got to know more of the man she was lucky enough to have as a mentor. She had been lucky enough to be seen on certain levels by a handful of people, but Gil saw her on all levels.

The artist, the genius, the friend, the tough-as-nails broad who might get knocked down but always gets back up again.

Resiliency was something Gil was very aware of. While he had a lot of highs, his lows were just as low. He openly spoke about his time in a mental institution and how difficult life had been for him, both in terms of his art and his struggles with substances.

We then shockingly managed to get a phone call out and got a hold of Butch, who met us at the Starlight Theater.

And Butch, being Butch, did not pull up in a car. He pulled up in a Pinzgauer, which is a Swiss military all-terrain vehicle that looks like a tank. And he asked me if we wanted a lift to the party.

Obviously, I thought, not even batting an eye as we climbed into the back of what you would call a vehicle, but like I said, more closely resembles a tank.

Now I understand why Jeff was nervous about meeting Rooster and Butch, I laughed to myself.

The Pinzgauer drew so much attention rolling throughout the ghost town that I did the only thing my body knew how to do. I instinctively started waving like a pageant queen, elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist.

Jen met up with Rooster and Gil's family at the High Sierra where the ceremony was held. Gil had a twenty-four-hour jam band session as a send-off.

She gave Rooster a huge hug and introduced him to Jeff. Then she quickly left to get the guys a Miller Lite at the bar.

Jen loved that you could be worth more money than you could spend in a lifetime, and yet still appreciate it when a friend bought you a drink. She knew Jeff was in for something. But what? She had no idea.

People say they feed their husbands to the wolves, or technically the year before, feed their husbands to the tigers.

Hilariously, my parents knew Carole Baskin as they lived in the same part of town as her. I remember back in 2007 hearing my mom joke that if my dad didn't, quote, unquote, behave, she would feed him to the tigers.

They met her at some happy hour she hosted at the Big Cat Rescue, which by the way, is next to a mall, a McDonald's, and a highway. Not exactly a natural habitat for tigers.

Either way, when I knew Jeff was the one, I called to tell the guys, and they offered to take him hunting.

"With or without the vest," they said. "It's up to you if you want him back."

I peered out to the patio from the bar, still seeing my husband standing.

We also got married during COVID, so unfortunately, while the guys couldn't attend the ceremony, I still had to make sure I didn't need to plan another funeral.

In the most Jeff way possible, by the time I came back with the beers, he had already introduced himself to their entire family and was in deep conversation with Rooster's wife.

Then Jen met the rest of Gil's family, whom she hadn't met yet.

Somewhere around the second round, she started asking about the service.

There was one thing about Jen that the weekend made undeniable. She thought about the movie 27 Dresses. Katherine Heigl's character, the perpetual bridesmaid? Jen was her.

But instead of weddings, she gave a good funeral. She read the room. She clocked who had had too many and who had not had enough.

Being the resident tech person, she asked about the electronics, where the extension cords were going to run, where the chairs needed to go, all the logistics she didn't trust the staff to handle, especially after the night before, they had to clear the dust from their own table before sitting down.

So no, Jen was not going to bank on the establishment getting the details right for Gil.

And apparently I looked so official doing it that a patron stopped and asked me if I worked there.

I paused in my black tulle dress and I said, "That might be the best compliment I have ever received. Thank you. But no, I do not work here at the High Sierra in Terra Lingua, Texas."

Later I went and collected Jeff, still deep in it with Rooster's wife.

"We really hit it off," he said, and I smiled because he finally got it. He finally saw what I see in these men and their chosen partners.

And also, selfishly, I was relieved because it meant I was not gonna have to plot the logistics of another funeral anytime soon.

Gil's celebration of life was exactly as bittersweet as the life he lived. Rooster and Butch handled the laughter. The crowd handled the tears.

And One-Eyed Jack, which is his actual name, read the closing poem, the poem Gil had personally requested he read.

It was not until the very end of the ceremony that Jen took an actual breath and understood where she was standing.

"This is it," I thought. "Goodbye, Gil. It really has been real good to know you."

Jeff was holding her hand. Tears were running down her face.

And then some two-eyed fellow grabbed the microphone from the man who was playing some form of makeshift bass made from a feeding bin, a string, and a welding glove.

He announced that in a few minutes, Gil's ashes would be spread over the crowd by helicopter.

"His ashes are going to be spread at his own funeral?" Jen asked, unable to tell if they were serious or not.

"We thought about putting the ashes in the guacamole, but thought this would be better," Butch admitted.

"That is the most rock and roll thing I have ever heard in my life," Jen said.

And also, when she thought about it for one second, it made complete sense.

Everyone he loved was already standing right there. Why would he go anywhere else?

So Butch and Rooster and the family spread Gil's ashes over a cheering crowd in the West Texas desert.

And whether they liked it or not, every single one of them went home with a piece of Gil that day.

And that was exactly how he would have wanted it.

Then at the after-after party, I then got to actually catch up with Rooster and Butch.

I told them about my diagnosises, specifically synesthesia, and how Gil had been right all along.

Rooster perked up and said he'd heard of that word before. His little brother Matthew, the year before we met, starred in Season One of True Detective.

The gift that his character had that allowed him to solve crimes, synesthesia.

"How do you spell that?" he asked.

"S-Y-N-E-S-T-H-E-S-I-A," I said, not even blinking an eye, which is shockingly easier than the times I would tweet on your behalf where I had to spell out McConaughey, capital M, lowercase C, capital C-O-N-A-U-G-H-E-Y.

They reminded Jen that they were always there for her for whatever she needed, which was great because considering they had a new vacancy, Jeff and Jen might need to play that card one day.

She didn't want to share the details about the stalking with them, nor did she plan on leaving her home in LA despite being stalked in her own building.

Then it occurred to her. She wasn't stalked in Terlingua. On a cruise ship for five days in a foreign country? Yes.

So why not here?

That's a tell.

She had emails confirming the travel, so either the money had run out or she was being tracked via her car or her cell.

At least now she had a direction, and it took being in the literal middle of nowhere to figure that out.

In the final episode, Jen starts questioning one of her diagnoses and finally figures out how the stalking was happening.

Then, thanks to some graffiti, she finally qualified for the one thing she should have had all along, a restraining order.