And then some dude in the back says, "But is it art?"

Yesterday, got very much lost, and ended up at the very much popular British Zoo, waited in line for over an hour, only to realize when I got to the ticket booth that the admission fee was £17, which is like the US Dollar equivalent of my first-borne son. So instead I kept on walking around and being lost.

I finally found my actual destination, the Institute of Contemporary Art. It seems like a pretty brill spot- (Oh, you didn't know? Sorry. "Brill" is short for "Brilliant," which is the most common British compliment) they have concerts almost every week, really interesting movies, and some off-the-wall art exhibits. The one I went to yesterday was called "Cellar Door," (or "Celador") and consisted of three pretty identical black rooms, each with a huge black motion-sensor door that went up and down like in a spaceship from those motion pictures you keep hearing about. Anyway, in each of the rooms hung this bulbous shape, complete with various speakers blasting a very dramatic opera (as opposed to all those undramatic operas). To top it all off, there was a butler guy in a tux who occasionally comes out to serve black champagne. And, at the end, there was a vending machine with candies that supposedly had no taste, thereby allowing the space-aged taster to invent their own. Unfortunately, they cost £1.50 (first-borne daughter) and I didn't get them.

I guess it was supposed to be like a Stanly Kubrick film, like any second the lights would flicker out and I would be killed by some sort of allegory. Twas all very Medulla-esque. Thoroughly pretentious, and even more thoroughly entertaining.

Oh, and I started teaching children this past week, too.