a complex, intricate structure." Others, including practising clinical psychologist Geoff Powter, who included a chapter devoted to Crowhurst in his book "Strange and Dangerous Dreams: The Fine Line Between Adventure and Madness", have postulated that Crowhurst may have suffered from undiagnosed bipolar disorder, which, accentuated by his eventual psychologically fraught situation, could account for his apparent alternation between "manic" and "depressed" episodes as evident from the later entries in his logbooks. On 24 June, he began to document these thoughts in a new set of writings in his second logbook, entitled "Philosophy". Although rambling and incoherent at times, he was attempting to set down, for the benefit of mankind, a "revelation" or new understanding that he believed he had discovered regarding the relationship between man and the universe. Life, as experienced by man, was a "game", overseen by "cosmic beings", apparently God (or several gods) and the Devil, who set the rules by which "the game" was played. However, man could, by an effort of will, become one such "second generation cosmic being" himself, and thereby withdraw from "the game" on his own terms if he so wished. He would then enter a world of "abstract intelligence" (the realm of gods) in which he would have no need for his body, or any of the other trappings of daily life. At one point he wrote that this "revelation" made him happy: whereas at other points his writings documenting mental arguments—with himself, with Albert Einstein, or with God—reveal a tortured soul on the brink of self destruction. While suicide is not explicitly mentioned as an escape route, Tomalin and Hall believe that Crowhurst (whether or not he was admitting it to himself) was groping towards this eventuality with phrases such as "The quick are quick, and the dead are dead. That is the judgement of God. I could not have endured the terrible anguish and meaningless waiting, in fact.", as well as "Man is forced to certain conclusions by virtue of his mistakes." He continued his writings for a week, eventually amounting to more than 25,000 words. At 10 a.m. on 1 July (by his own reckoning, since in his meditations he had omitted to wind his chronometer and had to subsequently re-start it), Crowhurst commenced what Tomalin and Hall believed to be his "final confession", also incorporating (in their view) a count of hours, minutes and seconds towards the time