I am back, and I never left…sort of

By Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, Sept. 9th, 2007

Okay, I think my fingers can hit the right keys. Last week, it was so hot, as Tara Zucker of Post Haste Media had mentioned, that my brain had disintegrated. I called one of my few long time great girlfriends, Marsha Sorce, and I was crying that I had to get out of the rut I was in. As it so happened, she needed an extra hand at the restaurant she owned.

Marsha had left Los Angeles and the film business four years ago. She was the first woman to run the biggest machine room on one of the biggest studio lots, Warner Brothers, as a sound recordist. When I met her, I was a tired film assistant lugging dailies to the transfer department, and OH MY GOD – there was a woman in transfer. I fell in love with her, and from that moment on called her “Marsha, Queen of the Sound Department”.

That was a long time ago. Marsha figured out how to get out of Los Angeles, and has been living in Pagosa Springs, Colorado, for the last three years. She and her husband, Pete, have stayed at our house every time they have had to come back here, they have a key, because I wanted to thank “Sha” as we call her, for helping us get into this house. She offered, we did not ask. But we had exhausted all possibilities, and, still being Partners on a Dime, could only pay her back in tiny increments.

SO – – – On September first, 2007, when I called her up, sobbing, she said,
“Get out here – you need a break and I need the help and we miss each other.”

It seemed like a great idea.

Tomas and I purchased the Greyhound tickets.

24 hours later I was stranded in a seedy hotel in Las Vegas.

This entry was posted in THE MADNESS!. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I am back, and I never left…sort of

  1. Sha says:

    Aw, honey…I love you and miss you, and am so sorry about your mis-adventure! Are you going to tell us the rest of the story?

  2. I have blocked it from my already over-taxed psyche. Why live something miserable and surreal twice?

    Usually I like to wallow a bit, but not this time. I can still watch CSI: Las Vegas, because I know only the exteriors are the real Vegas, and they film it somewhere in outer Los Angeles desert-y area.

    But I do not want to go back, because the whole experience truly freaked me out.

    On many levels.

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