I saw Joe Hill at the supermarket today and decided not to bug him, not to go up to him and his kids and gush about how awesome I thought Horns was.
I’ve read some interviews where he made it clear that privacy is pretty important to him and he doesn’t really want people to know where he lives because he was exposed to his share of weird stalker shit growing up in the King household. So, I’ll just say that it was not a supermarket anywhere near the town I live in–my wife and I stopped at one we like, but don’t get to often because it’s usually out of range. Still, I would have liked to express my admiration. The man has some serious chops.
I met his dad years ago when I worked as a clerk at Tower Records in Boston. I rang him up on my register and handled that famous credit card he did some commercials for (just kidding, I don’t think it was actually an Amex).
After telling him I liked his books, I made the unfortunate mistake of trying to drum up a little small talk about the weather. It was fall and I commented that there was a bit of a chill in the air. I’m sure I must have looked like the kind of grunge stoner dude who would think that the mere presence of the Master of the Macabre could cause the temperature of a room to drop, because Mr. King simply replied, “That’s all psychological.”
I probably avoided some similar awkward moment today.