An empty, empty, empty afternoon. My religiosity continues, albeit dubiously. For de omnibus dubitandum and mockedandum and not treatedforultimatelytrueandum, but religion requires that one shake off that postmodern coil n take some things serious. And you know, I'm very just like doubtful about everything, above all the existence of God. It's the same old problem, the eternal problem: do we, qua weak, come to God because we're weak or invent God therebecause? But it's really a function of the fact that i'm getting nothing, spiritually speaking: I feel nothing. Also, i don't give a dutch palm tree for eternal life, nor have I any fears re hell. A theophany would be nice. But for me I think it's a question of having like a personal, divine trainer: I want to have life, and have it to the full, not an eternal facsimile thereof, for let's face it, an eternal life with God is not like any life we know. Moreover, my track record seems to indicate that I can't do so: but is that fair? I made a moderately good effort, detailed in all its painful glory below, and came close. So perhaps my motives are wrong. But then so are alcoholics' etc, they just wanna screw the pooch of booze addiction in their addled pelts likes. Moreover, it says that God won't turn anyone away. I.e., if God exists, then he won't turn anyone away. I don't see to have been turned unaway, ergo God doesn't exist? Perhaps patience and, as Husserl would put it, an empty intending, awaiting fulfilment patiently. I've nothing else to do the summer anyway, and the change to flex my self-control muscle isn't to be sniffed at. But these are probably not the avenues of thought to be traversing, on account of the pascalinity.