Vol. 1 - Issue 1 / W i n t e r S o l s t i c e 2004
The MQ is organized very simply. You can jump
around and visit any part of it via the links above or you can peruse
in sequential order like a print publication with the 'next'
buttoms located at the bottom of each page. 'Home' will open this
page. Click to start.
Grab a plate, It all looks good, let's eat!
The MQ is a buffet of crab cakes, hummus spreads, rich pastries, fresh salmon steaks, hippie mystery dishes, watermelon, carrot sticks, delicious roasting beasts and golden apples. It is much more than a happy meal and sits better than fish and chips. As you see it's all spread before you on a nice neat table with proper garnish and very moderate settings. The bathroom is over there and please take your shoes off, saves the carpet.
Fortunately you must all bring your own silverware and cups, there is never enough forks and if you can't find a napkin just use your sleeve. You see no one is looking, but we're all standing round the same table. Double dipping is acceptable. This really is quite the potluck and we all have considerable good taste in food for thought. Dig in! The good people of the MLA have stirred up some good fixings and expect us to sample the fair. What is that jello looking stuff over there, are those raisins in there? hmmmmmm.
It's good to nibble a bit and lurk in the kitchen when it comes to gatherings like this. No one likes to be out of earshot from the rhythmic hissing of a fresh tapped keg and it looks like somebody was bold enough to bring out the sauteed shrimp dressed in Old Bay, butter and garlic. This is guaranteed to slip your head into a coma, a welcome coma, a brain shift, suspension of the output, mind open to new input, a full belly and eyes stalk the bathroom door. The feeding frenzy has begun.
Granted some of you will be outside smoking and chatting as if you're not freezing your tail off, though your vision hawks over the spread. Meanwhile in the other room, some talented crusading troubadour will whip out a guitar and sing a croaky little love ballad about a girl named Thelema as the smirking unassuming audience is lulled into submission as the tune over takes them; inhibitions fade and shoulders relax.
But wait....is it? It must be. Now who brought that? Does that smell like ? Why yessssss, come here sweet preciousssss, Who dare tempt the master with such a pleasant organic aroma? Thank you fine guests, a good party is all about who brings what and how many people are laughing.
Ahhhhhh, now things are reorganizing, shifting, settling, books fly mysteriously off the shelves and someone has taken the liberty to wash some dishes - gold star to the bald chap in the flowing robes. Ultimately, there is a hunger and a need for nourishment .....sweet baby blue jesus, there is a fnords bounty here....
Anyone need a drink?