" The time came to put Iris Duarte back on the plane.
It was a morning flight which made it difficult. I was
used to rising at noon; it was a fine cure for hangovers
and would add 5 years to my life. I felt no sadness
while driving her to L.A. International. The sex had
been fine; there had been laughter. I could hardly
remember a more civilized time, neither of us making
any demands, yet there had been warmth, it had not
been without feeling, dead meat coupled with dead
meat. I detested that type of swinging, the Los
Angeles, Hollywood, Bel Air, Malibu, Laguna Beach
kind of sex. Strangers when you meet, strangers when
you part—a gymnasium of bodies namelessly
masturbating each other. People with no morals often
considered themselves more free, but mostly they
lacked the ability to feel or to love. So they became
swingers. The dead fucking the dead. There was no
gamble or humor in their game—it was corpse
fucking corpse. Morals were restrictive, but they were
grounded on human experience down through the
centuries. Some morals tended to keep people
slaves in factories, in churches and true to the State.
Other morals simply made good sense. It was like a
garden filled with poisoned fruit and good fruit. You
had to know which to pick and eat, which to leave
alone. "

― Charles Bukowski , Women