The fundamental creative tension was always there—my sort of rawer,  Bertolt Brecht meets the blues/ coming out of punk rock thing, and Dave's Philadelphia soul meets Remain in Light/Roxy Music cool  musicality. But the personal tension became sort of unbearable because Dave's girlfriend had moved into his apartment, which was also the writing studio, and she was just always there. That three way tension was really hard/impossible to handle because I always just thought she was this pretentious New Agey con artist person and did not disguise my opinion very well, and she had a deep and volcanic rage behind all her "Wow, man, Zen. my heart overflows with love for the suffering tribes of Africa" thing.  My impression was ultimately proved in another context, in the civil courts of Hawaii, where she had become involved in one shameless swindle after the next. The phony mystic impression I had of her he did finally come to agree with, but far, far too late for us, and the experience I think just further crippled him, both psychically and economically.