what is the word

MY CHRISTMAS. i found this among my stuff here at work. guess i wrote it sort of half-drunk.

christmas day, 2:30 p.m. midtown. sag mantar for lunch isn't very christmas-y, but the three strong cups of egg nog i had this morning was. and later ice skating, tho all my ice skating plans of late have been foiled. strange to find myself around noon today, slightly drunk, slightly dizzy, leaning head against glass of the thirty-second floor window, looking down upon roofs and cabs and street. strange to find myself in this mood of frustration, short patience, mild inklings of rage, exhibiting true neurosis, lacking confidence, restless, asexual, apolitical, reading about vampires in french, half-comatose at work, missing melissa, whatever to s, dreading the house, loving williamsburg, obsessed with plans, not in the christmas spirit, thinking of shoes, wondering what im doing, wishing i were better, wishing i knew how to make things work, loving beauty, forgetting sex, feeling awful, terrified of rats, seeing shit out of the corner of my eye, leaving a message for someone i dont think will call me back, fading into paleness, looking older, slightly squinting, vision going, dry-eyed, lip-glossed, half-tweezed, not-amused, finger-brushed, purple-scarfed, egg-nogged, blah-blahed. not that im complaining. i love new york on christmas.