Three Conversations With Till Lindemann*
*100% True
When you're Till Lindemann, no one tells you how to style your hair
Conversation Number Ein - September 8, 1998, Chicago, IL
In true Tillian form, I first met the Man at a bar, where he was seated between two large breasted women, drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes. I was drawn to him like a...thing to a...pulling...thing. Italics are my interpretation of subtext.
J: Hello. I just wanted to tell you what a great show you had tonight. It was so much fun. The first time I've ever seen you in concert.
T: Oh? We're coming back you know. You should see us again. (What this means is that he wants me beside him. I bring him strength and joy.)
J: Oh, I definitely will. Definitely. (I love you and I'm not 100% sure of your name) Will you sign my t-shirt please?
T: Of course (I was waiting for you to ask, pussycat) But I will only sign it on the front, if I can sign it across your breast. (Let's get married)
J: Sure! (can I suck your cock?)
T: What's your name? (And how would it sound with Lindemann after it?)
J: J****************
T: Oh, Jessi
J: Right (Wrong)
T: Alright Jessi, well, make sure you say hi to Flake, he looks very sad.
J: I will. It was nice to meet you. (my life is forever altered)
*Notes: While he signed my breast, he held the Sharpie cap in his mouth. I kept it of course, and it is known to everyone in my household as "The Till Sharpie", denoted by the rubberband wrapped around it's base. And yes, I have sucked on the Till Sharpie cap myself, to bring strength and good luck.
Conversation Number Zwei - June 9, 1999, Cleveland,OH
The setting, an afterparty in the clear cool evening down in the Flats. The mood, giddy and inviting. The groupie Till was hanging on? Disgusting, ridiculous and horsefaced. My friend asked Till if he would mind posing for a picture with me.
T: Sure. Right here? (Shouldn't we go back to the Wyndham where I can take off my clothes?)
J: Yeah, that's fine. I don't want to bother you. I know you're busy (I can see the horsefaced groupie glaring at me from 100 feet away. Don't worry bitch, you'll get your mouthful soon enough. If you don't mind, those of us who keep our legs shut at concerts would like to get a word in. Why don't you go fuck yourself and die)
T: Don't worry. I'm in no hurry (I'd rather make love to you slowly and then take you out for pancakes)
J: Great show tonight. (You're the hottest man alive)
T: Not that great (my knee hurts and I need a drink)
J: Thanks for the picture. I had a great time.
*Notes: Before the actual picture was taken, Till attempted a photo of me with 'bunny ears' which my friend wouldn't take. He and I then looked at each other and laughed like giddy lovers. He stuck his tongue out at me. I pinched his waist to feel his ab muscles and nearly died. Contrary to what you may want to think about rockstars, he smelled so good I wanted to roll around on him like a dog who finds a pile of maggots in the yard. When I look back on that night I really wish my friend had snapped a) the bunny ear photo and b) Till and I laughing at each other. Those would have been a lot more priceless and candid than the standard "Rockstar and Admirer" photo that I got. But at least he had his arm around me.
Conversation Number Drei - June 10th, Villa Park, IL
The scene, The Aftershow Party of Terror. This party was insane. The entire group of like 75 people was kicked out of the party room in Villa Park, kicked out of the dressing room area and finally banished to the parking lot. This is the party that featured THE CLASSIC TILL AND ME moment and "the party continues" quote, although he did not say that directly to me, so it's not included here.
T: Every time we come to Chicago, the police try to arrest us. I hate this city.
J: This isn't the city. This is Villa Park. (DON'T MISTAKE THE TWO)
T: I know that. I shouldn't say that I guess. (Forgive me. Can we still be lovers?) We are having a party on the bus, you can come if you'd like. Just a few people. (we can lose them and get some quality time in later)
J: Fun! (My whole life has been leading to this moment. Every guy that laughed at me in highschool, every date that I didn't go on. Every time someone bullied me, every time someone told me I was ugly or uncool or 'such a geek'. Every time someone called me Spaz, every time I had a blueberry pie smashed in my face in front of the cool kids, it was another step towards BEING INVITED ON THE TOURBUS BY THE LEAD SINGER OF RAMMSTEIN)
Time elapses, and we're on the bus. The party features the usual Tillian Ratio: 15 women to 1 Till. He makes a brief exit and comes back with 1) a video tape of NIN videos and 2) a basket of liquor like some sort of perverse Easter bunny. He sets the basket down next to me, looks up, smiles widely and whispers (here' s the classic part)
T: Do you think this will be enough for us?
J: ha!
T: Help yourself to anything in the fridge, anything. I'll be right back.
J: Till! (All I've ever wanted since I first heard his glorious name was to one day SAY it to him and have him answer to it.)
T: Yes?
J: How badly does your knee hurt? Can you work out at all or do you just have to rest it? (I can't regret saying this MORE. When I think back to all the clever, funny, sexy, complimentary things I could have said to him, I said this, and if I end up in hell, my punishment will be having to hear it repeated back on a continuous loop)
T: Don't worry about it. It hurts, but I don't want to talk about that, it's a party.