(DECOMMISSIONED)

As is becoming a little habit of mine I consulted the internet before leaving on a daytrip to Macon (/ˈmeɪkən/) to find a place to take a coffee at the end of our familial obligations. Lord, I knew we would need it, and as has become my customary thought when entering into unfavourable situations, I wanted something to take out of hell with me, some proof to show the temple elders that I had shattered their image about its terminal darkness. Joshua Cup was the only thing that came up. After our experience with Sweet Java Brown, I decided to prank call them before we left just to make sure they were still in business. They were!

I had sort of a strange feeling before going to Joshua Cup, perhaps from the sound of the name or some of the language used on the webpage, such as the ecclesiastically connoted ‘fellowship’ and reference to a charity called ‘Power House,’ that this would be a Christian coffee shop. I did not know what that meant exactly but when I got there I did not see a bible stand or a statue of the christ. In fact, and I usually do not waste my time with such characterizations, the service was downright friendly and warm, despite the presence of at least two (2) pentagrams emblazoned on my clothing. As other folks rambled in they were greeted with a familiarity and energy that would not have been out of place in a miniature cafe out in the hinterlands of Clichy with shouts of “les enfants!” I did submit a query about the movie screen that hung partially coiled up in the ceiling on the northeast corner of the space and was told it was used for projecting readings for the bible groups that met there. Although my suspicions were confirmed I am used to such a presence here in the south and as they were welcoming and inclusive I was satisfied to relish the environment.

TSOracle pointed to a stack of board games, then regretting her suggestion, proceeded to take me on in a matched game of chess (for those of you examining the photo for potential gambits, the rook whose top can be seen in the white queen’s home position is in fact the white queen). The late afternoon sun streamed in low through the huge bank of western windows. There was a feeling about the place, that I had not been able to conjure until struck by the sun and wishing that there were some deep plantation style blinds and some ceiling fans, in which I was transported to an old southern corner soda fountain. Although I return to look at the photos and see that the walls were painted yellow, I now remember them as a dark wood with inset panels and lots of trim and dentils. The floor, a herringbone brick pattern, obscured an old hexagonal white tile beneath, a nostalgic duality of light floors and dark volume, sweltering heat and local men fanning their triple chins in the low light, children cooling their heels with a malt or a draught soft drink. As I peer, through the jalousie, a giant millipede scrambles up the wall and is crushed by… no, no, I open my eyes both now and back onto that space. The sun streams in through the incredibly tall glass windows. The soy latte is delightful and Oracle’s knight chases my king around the table.

Joshua Cup Coffee