Silvia Schmidt
Aug 26, 2017 · 10 min read

Dialogue with Susan Sontag — in a wall hole- 2017.

- Oh Hi ,Susan how llong,that´s a huge surprise to see you at my friend´s house.

-YYes,you see …isn´t nice , but I´m litte disappointed with you Silvia.

- Are you disappointed with me- why- Susan what kind of.

- You are doing a good job , Silvia,I felt some jealous about your essay Les

voyageurs iindefatigable2016.

- I did some mistake Susan please tell me.

- Not about a mmistake,I loved your paper really — original

- So don´t let me be misunderstood Susan, my master.

- You forgot to do some reference for my job about style and also the workaround essays just that, you can repair if you want.

-Course Susan, it was my first one and I had non-ideia about the way the things should become. Les voyageurs indefatigable is there at desktop waiting the right moment to publisher it. You know what it means.

-Ok, don´t worry- let´s do something together. What do you think about some dialogue

- Oh ,nice- I will be so happy and proud of you to give this license to me- when we can start it, Susan.

- Right now…right here. Just do it in the American’s way of life´s style just do it, baby.

- Thanks, Susan, you are so smart and great personality. We writers and special Brazilian’s love your symbolic contribution in Literature in the Semiology- the language´s knowledge.

  • and you Silvia someone that I had a great feeling will do some difference around Literature and arts in Brazil. And I can help you if you wish.
  • Course — let´s do it- Susan. I’m ready, are you ready too.
  • I´m ready. Let´s start. Welcome to my universe.

21 07 01 25 pcaldas

Dialogue with Susan Sontag 2

  • Hi Susan, lots of things to write since the last paper- things happen not for good sometimes. I’m thinking of you, if you feel the same jealousy about my essay, let me tell you that my notebook was stolen inside the bus on my last trip. And the essay that I just had written too. Some kind of trouble for Brazilians writes -really a bad mood. I didn´t copy. it’s all lost- sad absolutely sad. But I have an idea what I wanted to think about. It was something like to be one organic writer, to write as my soul wants to write without much technics or critical. To use the language as some sort of routs. As I’m doing here and right now. You know how to traveler, some writer without the best conditions to do my work — I want to be respectable about that. Are you understanding me, Susan?

    — Yes, Silvia, you are right. Why so many rules. The language as one boat flowing and navigating as well.
    — wow that’s the best idea loved
    — It’s Ferdinand Saussure. Make Google.
    — OK. Just a little bit
    “ the language is not
    a boat at the shipyard,
    but a boat
    was thrown into the sea “Ferdinand Saussure — ELG
    — that’s the way to go ahead.
    — oh thanks, Susan, that’s it. I’m telling you something else. I’m turning confident as one writer needs to be after I start this essay- gratitude. I will be back soon.
  • Florianópolis , 19 de outubro de 2017.
agapanthus

Fellow

we can

we can not complain

with someone´s pain

we have to stop this train[again and again

The Agapanthus is blowing

it´s some kind of plant of two colors[ azul and branca

flowers flavors flowing after the rain [the storms of crowd

That is the torment around us my loved one my man

open your eyes maybe your mind — shadows are gone

Fellow we can

we can not complain

with someone´s pain

we have to stop this accomplishment [ to say and say

We can´t replay this way of pain

without flowers without Agapanthus

wich we planted during the summer

[enquanto o cego muro nos cercava]

Susan this poem — a form to say I´m still on the road.

I will not give up. Merry Christmas!

Susan I’m here and now again: Please just keep this information

I want to talk about the next meeting ok? I´m going to São Paulo for NYears

so after we can chat again. See you.

Sistema mais aceito no mercado (de Eric Raymond):

· 1 Bit = Binary Digit
· 8 Bits = 1 Byte
· 1024 Bytes = 1 Kilobyte
· 1024 Kilobytes = 1 Megabyte
· 1024 Megabytes = 1 Gigabyte
· 1024 Gigabytes = 1 Terabyte
· 1024 Terabytes = 1 Petabyte
· 1024 Petabytes = 1 Exabyte
· 1024 Exabytes = 1 Zettabyte
· 1024 Zettabytes = 1 Yottabyte
· 1024 Yottabytes = 1 Brontobyte
· 1024 Brontobytes = 1 Geopbyte

Hi Susan I just come to show you a prize in the tale — called

Dream — it was in 2014 and I think also that sinalize that

I was and I´m doing well. I hope you like. ASAP I will be back to

talk with you. No friends around so sorry. Go read

DREAM

“Mas o sonho é mais completo que a realidade esta me afoga na inconsciência” C. Lispector

“Oh those dreams that are never over. They always bring those who cannot be with me.”, that was what Mary was thinking, while lying covered by a clean and perfumed linen duvet, just like the lavenders from Provence. She stretched out her feet, and waited still, wishing her deepest feelings to come back.

“They met in the middle of the night. What a weird time.”, she thought. But she could not waste an opportunity to love him.

He arrived often breathless, carrying a briefcase full of projects in his right hand… A nylon coat in the left hand. He is hyperactive, with no time at all. A visual arts lover. His laptop in a suitcase. Happily, he searched for her seeking warmth. When they laid down together it was a spiritual time without any questioning.

One night, Mary was stuck in the traffic in that big city, physically close to John. In that same night, he appeared in spirit. He was wearing only his underwear.

“What a surprise!”, Mary cleaned her eyes and felt her heart pounding between her breasts… he, lovely, pushed her closer to the wall in a single mattress, next to her nephew’s bed, who, generously, had lent her the room. And, without any chances of touching his hot body… John had suddenly disappeared. Mary was startled and astonished. She had noticed his anxiety. He would not come in briefs to visit her if it was not for desire — she had thought in the next day while walking up. They did not have intimacy in the everyday hardships. She felt him there, and there was, afterward, what truly mattered. The girl went back to sleep unquestionably wishing him.

Every now and then they saw each other in astral, as he was: tall, slender body, firm musculature, broad smile, quick and affectionate movements, beard for making, straight hair falling in his forehead, white skin.

“Come, lay with me”, he called her for more one night of love, chilling in that rustic duvet.

Mary gently laid. She could smell his flavor. Something warm took control of that moment almost virtual. They knew it will be quick and intense. He was a poet, an iconic poet.

Mary leaned her head on his shoulder, and that was enough. He was still wearing suit and tie, not undressed like the previous times. He came to describe homosexual positions to take her breath away. She was incredulous with the following gestures:

“This way, look”, he said, “this is a gay penetration: I open my legs, leaning in support, and he penetrates me. I am passive.”

She starred and listened to him with the certainty that the truth was coming to the surface, and, fearless, she felt him more than in her revealed intimacy. They were more than just lovers, they were confidants. Mary respected him with no touches at that night, in the most revealing omnipresence.

That truth was never going to announce itself in the real plan, not with such accuracy. Some truths are only able to happen in the exact same moment of the inconstancy, in the soul synchronizes. Therefore, they moved on with their feelings.

They did not see each other daily, but they felt themselves in the plan of the ethereal. They count on each other and revealed themselves every night. The more they saw each other, the more they declared their love.

“I love you”, and they kissed like beings certain that they belonged together. Perfect lovers.

“I want to marry you”, and kept kissing leaning on the armchair of a flight. The plane was passing through the clouds above an island in the South Atlantic which both of them knew precisely…

“Look, John, look through the window… there, over there… are you seeing that soccer field and the Eucalyptus plantation? There was my home. There was where I lived for ten years.” Mary pointed out taking John’s seat as if she wanted to leak air space… John received her open-armed, kissing her passionately.

The time and space of this romance were exactly as you read: inconstant. But Mary kept entering her room with the same questions… Was or was not she with her dreamlike lover? She did not know. Nothing was predictable in the chronological sense. Their last meeting was in the square of some unknown colonial town, with short and colorful houses. He was returning from a trip, as usual… She was walking pointlessly by the uneven sidewalk. As they continued walking, their steps acquired synchrony. They knew where they were. They turned and got closer… John took her in his arms. She resisted, but he insisted getting her closer to his chest… The sentiment of missing him… She had no doubts, but, also, she could not explain what was pumping in her thoughts. She sighed enjoying his strong hug on the corner of some random place located in the vague plan. Everything was volatilized by the charged and numbed senses. Gradually quickened by the presence of sounds, spring morning scents, the sunshine that presentified themselves for another day that insisted on awakening her from the evanescent, robbing them to another dimension. in EnCONTrOS uma cartografia do tempo- 2017. By Símbol@Digital.

Susan , my master you have non-idea — the system that we are using to communicating through the internet — that we call as dual — or algorithm
is changing our relations, impacting our social relation, and I think that´s is obvious, to deal just as “yes or not” around lots of questions. That will not let us dual to and no conditions to develop deep thinks or worst deep feelings empathy with just two points of view… nothing. This link’s all about they are thinking to change around this system, I just found it. One thinks I know the importance of to write poetry a kind of nondual language — full of metaphors, comparations and more. I will found some more and about. See you

the link : https://medium.com/@AINowInstitute/algorithmic-impact-assessments-toward-accountable-automation-in-public-agencies-bd9856e6fdde

Yeap the Facebook it’s right now at the international court. Let´s see what’s going on.

I have right here this article but I will be back after to understand the argument- I feel we have controversy. Anyway. See you soon.

Hi Susan, look that, your life and intellectual writes are coming with news, and that looks like a prime, for you and lots of women in the same way from the structural man´s society. The visibility of our work our papers. Congratulations, I will be back here soon.

Susan — that´s what we call the Matilda effect is a bias against acknowledging the achievements of those women scientists whose work is attributed to their male colleagues. This effect was first described by suffragist and abolitionist Matilda Joslyn Gage (1826–98) in her essay, “Woman as Inventor”. The term “Matilda effect” was coined in 1993 by science historian Margaret W. Rossiter.

Had non-ideia Susan!

Sílvia I was so young, me too. I’m not the only one.

I know and I can understand you. I did some mistakes around my relations ship with a man, and we are so vulnerable. Long term relations, long years and long job. We girls have so many powers but under the carpet. I’m so so sorry Susan, and again as late than never — Congratulations.

This article comes from a very closer friend of my relations in very good writes around the world Susan, one day I will ask her to talk with us, by this paper. I see you later. Ah, she lives in the USA right now.

https://brasil.elpais.com/brasil/2019/09/10/cultura/1568114545_419957.html?fbclid=IwAR2FJ80djdha1UxRMs6DLmY_5DikD5spC7UdGuHjI-tWo0dQenEq0BZ0x8E

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