Sego

When I first came back to Provo I wasn’t all that thrilled about it. It’s not a city that I’ve ever really been in love with, mostly because there’s not a lot to do here. Or so I thought. Because of my increasingly tiring, schedule during the week I’ve made a special effort to do productive and/or interesting things on the weekends. So far we haven’t had any trouble finding things to do. In fact, quite conveniently, things usually find us. There’s always something random going on somewhere, if you just know where to look.

Over the weekend my roommates and I attended the Sego Film, Music and Art festival in Provo. It was a brilliant collaboration of the independent culture in Provo. Unfortunately it was pouring rain all day Saturday, but that didn’t stop the loyal supporters of local bands from coming out to the indie fashion show. I saw some weird clothes.

The venue itself was fantastic. Hidden up behind the Mental Hospital and Seven Peaks water resort is a park with a castle amphitheater and pond. They’d set up three stages, one on a huge stretch of lawn, another beside an algae-infested pond, and the third at the castle. Each stage was protected by a tent but it was impossible to stay completely dry. All the fans piled under the canopy and crowded the musicians, essentially eliminating the idea of a “stage.” My favorite group was definitely Seve vs. Evan. The crowd was pulsating with energy as this highly entertaining duo played their extremely fun keyboard techno melodies like Bomberman and Destination Tokyo. It was pretty dang charming.

The night before, I also had an enjoyable time. Fisher and Andrew drove down for the Sego kickoff concert (which was lame, except for the spin art) and we went out to dinner at Thai Ruby. Fisher brought a date, and Mike had one too, so it was kind of awkward just chilling with Ryan and Andrew, definitely dateless. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. So I ended up talking mostly to their dates, which was cool because I didn’t have to pay for them.

While we were eating Gelato’s (Never get the mango. Even after sampling it I still fell for it. True idiocy), I got a phone call from a certain someone who has made a habit of tactfully dogging me. It was all too obvious this time, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been so disappointed by a single phone call. We went back to my place and watched Howl’s Flying Castle. Trippy and anime. Weird. “I’m a prince from a neighboring village!” What kind of non-sequitur was that?! I’d still pick it over Elizabethtown though. That movie was absolute garbage.

It wasn’t until Sego on Saturday that the full import of the previous night’s phone call occurred to me. As I watched various artists and fans sucking the marrow out of life, I realized I didn’t need her to do that. From now on I’ll be sucking with a good old-fashioned flexi-straw.