I despretly need inspiration

I want to write poetry or a short story or something, but the muses have deserted me. This creativity stuff comes in short, intense bursts. Like I'll write non-stop for about a week or so, then not write for several months. Drives me crazy.
Also, I've decided to go back to being a vegetarian. On the 5th, I shall eat meat only on specified days, one day a month. Like Thanksgiving, or Christmas, stuff like that.
Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this lack of creativity and inspiration is driving me CRAZY!!!!! I really really really reallyreallyreallyreally want to write and write and write, but in the absense of having a computer, the words have seemed to dried up. Where there were once flowing streams of honeyed words there is now only deserted wastelands. Those sweet, sweet muses called to me, their siren voices beckoning me forward, coxing the essence of my soul forth, the glourious pain of release as my fingers flew across the keyboard, unleashing the power to create worlds. From the depths of my mind sprang the beings that lived the lives I never could. Each keystroke made them more and more real, lifelike figures that one could not help but fall in love with. When they felt pain or anguish, you shed tears for their troubles. When they fell in love, you swooned in delierious joy. And when they died, you felt a little part of you die with them, lost between the black and white words across the screen. The imense power to control them fades when you realize that they are the ones in control, that you have always known them, that they were just waiting to be born. These are not just characters, they are aspects of yourself, and as time goes by they take control of the story, leading it to twists and turns that cause you to laugh and sigh at each new bend. Then.............
Nothing.
They're lost.
Gone.
It's like they died. No, not died, because then they'd still be with you. No, they vanished, abandoned you, left you there to gnash your teeth as you struggle to find them again.
They may come back, but it's only a matter of time before they leave you again, even quicker than before. One can only hope that they stay with you long enough for you to tell their story.
Man, that got a little mellow dramatic. Sorry bout that. Anyway, I better get going. It's after work and mom still hasn't picked me up. So I'll ttyl, latters.