<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:12:17.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WhiteNotes From the Front, by Frank Beaumier</title><subtitle type='html'>WhiteNotes From the Front, by Frank Beaumier continues the basic theme of Beaumier's work:  "The Cure of Sexual Obsession, or, The Mujahadah Chronicle." "The Cure" depicted the struggle between the spirit and the flesh. WhiteNotes follows a similiar theme. Contact by e-mail: franksell2000@yahoo.com to purchase books by Beaumier, click on buy symbol:&lt;a href="http://www.lulu.com/fbb"&gt;
&lt;img src="http://www.lulu.com/themes/common/images/icons/buynowbook_yellow.gif" border="0" alt="Buy my book at Lu</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-108761020421853381</id><published>2004-06-18T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-18T18:56:44.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>                      WhiteNotesKlaraRoberts, talented writer, who writes occasionally on the net, also writes and publishes a popular newsletter in New England, The Reluctant Entrepreneur, among other publishing and public relations activities. In her last edition she wrote: Need a good read? Stressed out from your business? Are your relationships falling apart? Do you suffer from "too </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/108761020421853381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/108761020421853381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2004_06_13_archive.html#108761020421853381' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-108566852414710909</id><published>2004-05-27T07:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T07:35:24.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>        Julie and I didn't see eye to eye on the subject of free trade."I see sex rather as an even up exchange of goods. Like exchanging say an apple for an orange. You got an orange I like, I got an apple you like. We trade goods. Get it. An exchange. Not that the woman give me her goods, I take them, give nothing in return. Now if that was possible, then I might see the wisdom in paying. But</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/108566852414710909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/108566852414710909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2004_05_23_archive.html#108566852414710909' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-108428693330971803</id><published>2004-05-11T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-11T07:48:53.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angel</title><summary type='text'>     Now and then I’d meet a girl who brought out my best, or maybe my worst. Without doubt, part of my problem was my own sensitiveness. Just too damn sensitive for my own good. If there’s one thing that New Yorkers have that I wish I had, it’s their trademark callous attitude, a ‘don’t care, don’t wanna get involved’ way of life. It may not be morally correct, but for less painful living, one </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/108428693330971803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/108428693330971803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2004_05_09_archive.html#108428693330971803' title='Angel'/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-107532741465272101</id><published>2004-01-28T14:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T14:09:50.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brome writes about the Entertainer Dyke</title><summary type='text'>           Brome writes about the first time with the Entertainer Dyke Before the Dyke's murder, I had for some reason, consciously or sub-consciously, been sticking close to bi-sexual and dyke types since first witnessing the E.D.'s act. Hard to get the big cunt out of my mind. Let me say that following the scene at the Bull’s house, where she let me see her preview act up close and personal, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/107532741465272101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/107532741465272101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2004_01_25_archive.html#107532741465272101' title='Brome writes about the Entertainer Dyke'/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-107528826687180554</id><published>2004-01-28T03:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T03:13:17.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>                      WhiteNotes</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/107528826687180554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/107528826687180554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2004_01_25_archive.html#107528826687180554' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-106338328397442759</id><published>2003-09-12T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-12T09:14:44.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Selection from WhiteNotes</title><summary type='text'>                      WhiteNotesThat left me in the unenviable position of having to cater to Teliah’s strangeness, her bitchiness, her fucking around with the assholes fum de islands since in my wildest thoughts and most ego-moved moments I did not want to lose that pleasure of her mouth and cunt, both huge.The remembrances of her mouth haunts me still, then, drove me deeper into depression. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/106338328397442759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/106338328397442759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_09_07_archive.html#106338328397442759' title='Selection from WhiteNotes'/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-106157809468160574</id><published>2003-08-22T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-22T11:58:52.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Cure" ms...</title><summary type='text'>                      WhiteNotesBrome on the ms behind the Cure.  “The writing was composed of an odd mixture of type and handwriting. There were original and copied quotes intermixed with prose and poetry, with crude illustrations at times. I edited, rewrote, worked on logical order, collating and paginating. It was written in first and third person over several years I guessed, a period of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/106157809468160574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/106157809468160574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_08_17_archive.html#106157809468160574' title='The &quot;Cure&quot; ms...'/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-106078595060156096</id><published>2003-08-13T07:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-16T06:57:36.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>                      WhiteNotesMy writing turns morbid as Poe, turns inward when trying to record the events of yesterday and today.  I rationalize my quick temper.  Blame it on other than the thwarted sex drive.  Blame it on a job turndown earlier in the day.  Those officious bastards and of late, as likely bitches; those who have a job, who can pass you on to the next level of interview on </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/106078595060156096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/106078595060156096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_08_10_archive.html#106078595060156096' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200385287</id><published>2003-06-04T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-11T12:18:22.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Finished with the sexual interplay she’s ready to talk, will talk,  as who won‘t? With a cute half smile, not serious, but serious enough, she muses, "Brome, you have been to college; studied psychology, know a lot of general things. So, what do you think, is it possible to love two people?"After being satisfied, no mean feat for anyone, Brome thought, seemingly really so, for she was as easy</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200385287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200385287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#200385287' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200362353</id><published>2003-05-30T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-04T11:42:11.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Late, was Teliah, but in one of her good moods, it seemed. When a woman is in a good mood, she's all teeth, smiles, lets the man know she's ready to fuck in rather explicit ways, laughs easily at his not so amusing comments, touches him, gets close when she doesn't have to. That was Teliah this time around. She was horny as a frog in June, she was very sweet. But not so sweet that she offered any</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200362353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200362353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#200362353' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200284230</id><published>2003-05-13T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-29T09:34:25.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Like most young women, especially those with certain desirable sexual traits, a shapely ass, or large lips, big eyes, solid hairy thighs, Kris could be very charming if she so chose. And she could be sympathetic, even caring, it would appear, add Brome's way of seeing her: at times she could be a cold bitch also. In other words, not unusual  among the beautiful and sexy of America, who knew for </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200284230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200284230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#200284230' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200261316</id><published>2003-05-08T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-20T07:03:58.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>whitenotes.rtfWhile he usually believed her up front, he found it difficult in this case to totally take what she said as full truth. He usually started out believing her, as he was a somewhat naive fool, and then, after digesting and regurgitating and going through her comments again and again, he would come to some decision. In this case, he thought she had sorted out some inconsistencies, if </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200261316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200261316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#200261316' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200255516</id><published>2003-05-07T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-13T13:11:59.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>***Talk and eventually the subject pressing on the mind will be released. And, the Method proved to Brome, writing will also present the thoughts that lurk in the mind, conscious and or subconscious.Kris lingered in the kitchen, strangely, and finally and quietly mentioned something that evidently she had wanted to get out into the air, something that had become a recurring problem for her. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200255516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200255516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#200255516' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200249498</id><published>2003-05-06T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-13T13:13:46.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>     "It is different," Kris said in a tone that meant clearly she didn't want to talk about it. "It is. That's it. And anyway, I have to go. I have to get my hair styled. Gotta make some runs. Things to do."     Kris' sister, Breda, oldest of the four Prince sisters, is a hair stylist, Brome knew, but so is Kris' girlfriend, Karen Walker, a tall thin girl, former center on the high school </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200249498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200249498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#200249498' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200244246</id><published>2003-05-05T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-13T13:14:50.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>      Kris Prince, at 25, was much the same as she had been at seventeen, in looks and style and mind, not one to follow a schedule or to be taken for granted, or be taken at all. If nothing else, she was independent, went her own way, followed her own mind's thoughts. She was self possessed, not easily diverted and never openly intimidated.      "I didn't get any back rent. Mr. Thomas didn't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200244246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200244246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#200244246' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200237233</id><published>2003-05-03T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-13T13:15:29.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>She's grateful for his ability to read her, wanted it that way, saved talk, time, mental effort. In turn, if she planned on going to bed with him, she didn't play, revealed it almost instantly. Her messages were clear and to the point. If she wanted him to perform the usual, which was by and large beginning and end, cunnilingus, she would lead him to the bedroom and start undressing. Usually she </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200237233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200237233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#200237233' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200227173</id><published>2003-05-01T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-13T13:16:59.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>He writes: Into the midst of things.I do not cry to be remembered.In turn I have always had a good memory, leading to a curious minute reconstruction of events and times after the fact. This was especially true if something of an embarrassing nature happened to me or in case of success or failure, especially failure, with the opposite sex. Some might view this trait a sign of insecurity, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200227173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200227173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#200227173' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200222976</id><published>2003-04-30T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-06T08:41:40.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter One: Eventual Life and Resurrection</title><summary type='text'>The time is late of a Saturday night on West Grand Blvd., near downtown Detroit. A light dry snow swirls by a brisk wind across street and parking lot. At the front of a large brick apartment building a dim light gives bare welcome; inside, Johnston (Jack) Brome, sat before an old typewriter, probably near his own middle age, but which had served him well into the dawning of the computer. He </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200222976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200222976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#200222976' title='Chapter One: Eventual Life and Resurrection'/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200217051</id><published>2003-04-29T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-06-12T08:57:17.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>White Notes From the Front</title><summary type='text'>"If I read a book, or watch a movie, and get any new, original or useful information from the content, I feel I am ahead of the game.""White Notes" was compiled in a generally misspent life endeavoring to become a writer.""This writing depicts a man who wallows in his obsession.""In White Notes, Johnston(Jack)Brome comes to terms with his life and writes about it as few have since Henry Miller</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200217051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200217051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#200217051' title='White Notes From the Front'/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305606.post-200176657</id><published>2003-04-21T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-05-13T13:25:11.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>White Notes. These first notes were written following a 40-day writing cure of sexual obsession and depression that established a habit of writing, following The Method by Dr. T.L. This was in April, more than 20 years ago. A year latar I did a major rewrite. At that time I weighed 131 pounds, and recorded: "I have almost no energy coming off of a bad chest cold, during which time I lost five or</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200176657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5305606/posts/default/200176657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whitenotes.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#200176657' title=''/><author><name>frank beaumier</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13873183915094934763</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
