Brainstorming Again

Okay, it is now time to brainstorm. Again. Maybe there are actual brainstorming strategies to be used during times of...Writer's block. I will go and look that up right now. There are undoubtedly some. And that was undoubtedly the most clumsy sentence I have ever written.
     I am back. Just realized something. I learned all that in school. A technique I will probably employ tonight while I wait for morning is mind mapping. I don't think I could do it effectively on the computer, so I'll just wait and post a pic tomorrow. But for now, I will try some others.
     The camera sweeps across the scene to a man. He is sitting in the corner of the room, staring off into space. He notices the photographer and tilts his hand in a kind of wave. His eyes never seem to focus.Everything blurs for a second, and then all that can be seen is the floor. It bobs up and down in the frame as the photographer walks around the room, seemingly unaware that his camera is still recording.
     Fred scratched his beard, his eyes sweeping across the room in search of anything more to look at than a dirty-looking man and the shapes in the wood floor. He remembered once losing his keys in his garden. They had disappeared with a rattle of metal and he spent a good forty five minutes looking for them. When it seemed he had looked everywhere, he began looking under rocks and pots. This was like that. No matter how hard he looked, interest was not to be found in  this room. If he wanted that, he would have to go somewhere else.
     I leaned back against the wall. The rough hewn stone at least offered some variety of sensation. Made it a bit less like one of those white sensory deprivation rooms. A shiver ran down the length of my arms. It might have been wiser to bring a sweater or something. But that wasn't what I was there for. It would be more productive for my mind to dwell on more relevant things.
     The environment in the room was so painfully boring. I swept my hand across the cold floor and gathered some dust in a pile. In my mind, I built up a mountain range over the unsanitary collection of various particles. That made me realize. I wiped my hands a few times on my pants and pulled out some and sanitizer to disinfect my person.
     With a fingernail, I flipped up the cap, and then squeezed a light green gel onto the palm of my hand. I closed the bottle, dropped it into my pocket, clasped my hands together, and began viciously rubbing them together.
     I brought my hands up to my face to smell the sharp, beautiful smell of the hand sanitizer. It faded quickly and they were left a bit more moist, coated in a bitter taste known well to people who like to wash their hands with it before eating. Now that that was all gone, I resumed my gazing at the wall at the other end of the room.
     A moving figure entered my vision and I recognized the camera man's posture. He had the camera pointed at me. Slightly annoyed that he hadn't bothered too ask to film me, I gave him a jerky, cut-off half wave with my fingers.