Starting anew

I sit in the couch and stare at the blank canvas. I lie down and close my eyes for a few minutes, concentrating all my thoughts to a single point. And let me tell you that is hard. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. I walk to the patio door, look out and breathe deeply. I look around as far as I can, craning my neck.
No. I don't see it anywhere. Inspiration is a bitch. I have had to look at the empty canvas for a month now. And everyday has been the same. Scouting for a spark that will help me paint a new idea, a new thought onto the blank bit. My thoughts have always been fluid. But now..now it seems like it has all dried up and I can't even paint the walls of my house if I have to. Its been dreary. I have sung, I have danced- even naked in the moonlight, grew a beard, twirled my mustache, drunk a bottle of vodka. Besides understanding that I am easily prone to colds and that I have a bad voice, I haven't discovered anything.
It is hard to see people now. They want to know what is up with me. How do I tell them no, nothing is.  I truly don't know what is wrong. Maybe I should see a shrink too.
I think its maybe time to put those brushed to rest, put it all down and start anew. And then it strikes me...starting anew..
I wake up early next morning and go to the roof. I stand in the early light of dawn and feel the sun's warmth light me up from inside and I paint and paint and paint...