A malefic ennui?

The poet sent me an email earlier that said simply

"A malefic ennui descends and I am going back into my cage for the time being."

Okay, who has been aggravating him this time? I welcome his more epic moods, he writes well (just look at all that his adoration of Jaz has wrought) from them. Just wanting to see who to blame or credit for the next wave of existential angst.

I have been working on an update to the page of his website that analyzes his muses, especially now that we have a new one (Will he just pick one and stick with her for the rest of his life? I hate editing the damn page.) I'm trying to get him to submit to an interview on the topic of his current a-muse-ment, but he is being coy. I think she is another who accepts the crown but then doesn't know what to do with it and that makes him undesirous of commenting too much (remember the Panther? she had two gears: overdrive and reverse...I am amazed he's alive).

LA will be good for him. The sooner he is back "home" the better. He'll relax, he'll find himself a nice loft weasel and get laid. A lot. Then write wonderfully overwrought poetry about the pain of giving up on love for the necessity of the comfort of sex (see Luscher, Max).

Nah. The first woman he sleeps with, having gone this far, he'll fall in love with, that's why he's being so cautious. He's only really opened up to one woman in what, three years? He's set himself up for a disaster to rival Brigit (the crimson panther), who saved him from his addiction to the Panther (the black panther), then immediately started screwing around on him (it is a lot more complicated than that, but why go into it all?). We won't even go into the cluster that was his marriage to the Leopard (the golden panther?). Maybe he should rename his new muse the Tiger, or the Jaguar, or the Tabby? Maybe the purple panther? Or maybe the Leopard was not the golden panther of his dream, just a convenient illusion (he said as much in one long email he wrote me, once, on that topic). My head hurts, and I didn't know hardly any of these players, imagine what it must be like to live in the brainsoup of remembering every word and action and moment.

God love him, he's fulfilled his poem "TESTAMENT": He's the last of his breed, the first of his species. That has to be a painful and lonely perch, on the cliffs above Kyrienar. He's earned his "malefic ennui" (I had to look it up).