I was making love to Nico a lot. All day pretty much. Nico was really something special. I really dug her a lot. I couldn't fall in love with anybody, but I was really thrilled and excited to be around her. She was older and she was from somewhere else. I really liked that - her accent was from somewhere else, everything about her was from somewhere else. Nico used to say to me, "Zhimmy, oh Zhimmy, you must be totally poisoned to do what you do. You are only mostly poisoned, you must be totally poisoned." She meant I had too much humanity. Then she'd feed me red wines with French names I never heard of. That's how I learned all that bullshit; that's how I learned to modulate my voice...wear light blue suits and speak to record company execs. Also, she was extremely strong. I was like hanging out with a guy except she had girl's parts; that was the only difference, otherwise it was like hanging out with a tough-minded, egotistical, artiste kinda guy. She'd be very opinionated about my work, and this, that, and the other thing - then all of a sudden that veneer would fall off and she would show tremendous vulnerability. And I would see her: Here's someone over 30, not a model anymore, not a commercial entity of any kind in the big business called America, and what the fuck was she gonna do? Nico had a great sadness about her. You know, she had all the accoutrements of a really groovy international gal - the right boots, the right sheepskin coat, the right hair, and she knew people on the right level, and yet she was fucked up. She had a twist to her. She was a great, great artist. It was just a real kick to be around her.