*scory is a term created from a combination of words "score" and "story" which names the forms I create through my research. Scores are their ancestors, but the evolution (or mutation) takes them towards a literary form. Scories respond to a score and in itself they are scores for ‘speculative doing’. The term scory was proposed by Myriam Van Imschoot during a mentoring session that happened in the frame a.pass research program (2020, Brussels).
SCORE
Think of one being ( person / animal / plant / place / object ) that taught you pleasure. Imagine a moment of pleasure together.
SCORY
Nest** yourself
on the bed.
Next,
close your eyes. Your body will melt slowly. Give it time to drop. Open your eyes again after a while, once your body has settled in.
** Nesting is a way to position yourself to reach a relaxed state. Bring some pillows and blankets. Place them in a way to support your body so you are comfortable. You can do it in your own way or try the following proposition:
When preparing to lie down on your back, place one or two pillows under each of the following body parts: head and shoulders, each arm, and the bend of each knee. Allow your shoulders to drift downward and outward, arms to rest with elbows slightly bent, cup your fingers gently and softly, allow the feet to drop turned outward. You can cover yourself with a blanket if you wish.
…
You are in the dark.
The exact shape of the space you are in is not visible. Little light enters through the tiny entrance opening, and you can see only the bottom of walls. They are brown. Their surface is rough, uneven, and looks wet. Three walls with irregular surfaces lean towards each other and probably connect somewhere upwards. But you can't see that.
The air that flows into your nostrils smells like moist soil.
Your enveloped body is touched by softness.
You hear delicate sounds of the materials that give in to your weight: bending, swishing, soft crunching.
After a few moments, all settles down into the silence.
On this background, a new sound carves a line.
Its broken traces are a rhythm, irregular. Pauses that appear last long enough to make you believe that the sound is gone for good.
It starts and stops again
and again.
You are listening with no expectation.
Then,
your belly makes an unexpected grunt.
This opens up a long silence.
You feel a gaze.
You resist looking at its source.
Now your observer is close to you and starts to test your surface.
The paw
is
touching
stepping
climbing on you
touching
stepping
pressing
kneading
It nests on you.
You feel the pleasurable warmth of the other body and listen to its purring. The sound takes the shape of a wave. Once in a while, the volume becomes higher to then soften again.
Indulging in the pleasure of the encounter, you follow the sensation of touch. Navigating your attention you contour the shape of this spilled body, which adheres to yours. You're on the verge of falling asleep when you start to feel that this relaxed body actually moves.
You haven't seen the cat yet.
You are looking at it now, for the first time.
It lies on the top of you in a 'loaf' position - its belly touches you, the head is lifted, and front paws tucked underneath its large body. It is not asleep. It seems content.
You lie back and start to feel that the cat's fluffy belly is undulating. Hard bubbles moving under the thick flesh are playing with your surface. Different shapes imprint on your skin. They emerge irregularly. The presses and pokes occur one after the other or several at a time. The affective strangeness of this sensation overcomes the experience of pleasure. It is strange, disturbing.
You both stay in this encounter.
After a while, the cat’s persistence brings trust.
You tame the unknown movements.
When she leaves
you stay alone
with a new ability to be touched.