S CLAY WILSON…The night that changed his life….

July 16th, 2010

S Clay Wilson was trying to get home from a friend’s house November 1, 2008, the night his life changed forever. We will never be certain if he fell or was attacked, since he has no memory of it. The numerous injuries on his face and head made him look like he was beat up. Two good samaritans found him unconscious between parked cars, face down in the rain, and called an ambulance. (I have tried to find them in order to express my gratitude for saving his life, but have had no success.) He’d suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury, bleeding in three hemispheres of his brain. He spent three weeks in a coma, and we had no idea how severely impaired he was for many months. Once he began to speak again we realized he hadn’t just “awakened” to resume life as it had been before.

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Methusaleh Birthday June 22!

June 23rd, 2024
Time zooms by in a drawing by Kliban

Time zooms by in a drawing by Kliban

I had a fabulous birthday yesterday with my niece , Michele from Colorado!

Rena helped transformed my dressing room into a guest room, and it’s been great having her here for a few days. We were enjoying each other so much, though, I forgot to write anything on here or even on Facebook. I must catch up!

My health has taken a turn, been to the ER & Hospital 5 times in the past 8weeks for tests, Ultrasounds, etc. I’m getting my left leg scanned soon. But enough about THAT! Too scary!

If you can help, I’d be eternally grateful. The coffers are nearly empty. A small donation would keep the WiFi on. I’m still a Hermit & this is my only connection to the outside world. Just click on the handy PayPal button on the upper left, and I’ll send a thank you note! One day soon I’ll be getting rid of everything. I’ll post an announcement later this summer.

Then finally you could actually GET SOMETHING BACK!

Thanks for looking in. It’s been 3 1/2 years since Wilson passed. I’ve been frozen in time. This morning when Alfred (Old friend of Chamberlain & now my ancient Lodger) brought me tea, he said “Good morning, Lorraine.” I was dreaming of Wilson and awoke THRILLED, thinking he’d regained his speech! Then realized alas, it was only a dream, it was Alfred, and my heart sank for a minute.

Reality. Dammit! But grateful for Alf’s morning ritual, and his Brit gift for making a great cup of tea.


The Kindness of Strangers….

November 18th, 2023


You must do doodley do, doodley do..

What you must, muddley must muddley must…

Muddley do muddley do muddley do…

Until you bust, bodily bust, bodily bust.   – Kurt Vonnegut

This –
From the Forward in “Breakfast of Champions” – On the occasion of his 50th Birthday. The only poem he ever published, he felt brave enough to share it with the world only if buried in the part of a book many people never read.

But I always do.
I was 31 when my former husband, the sculptor John Chamberlain and I were invited to a dinner party in The Hamptons at the home of Syd & Annie Solomon. Syd was an artist who achieved wealth with his “Famous Artists” art school ads in the back of magazines. “Can you draw this?” Was the challenge. Copy a face, send it in, and a Famous Artist would determine if you had Artistic Talent, for a modest fee. Once admitted into this Art School-by-mail, you received more challenging images to copy & mail back with further payments. It made him a millionaire. A successful Artist himself, this odd enterprise was rarely mentioned

When I learned that Kurt Vonnegut & his wife, photographer Jill Krementz were also dinner guests, I was thrilled, having read every one of his books. Chamberlain hadn’t read even one, but I talked about him so excitedly, John actually showered & worried about what to wear. I loaned him my oversized black cashmere sweater & a dress shirt I’d bought in Paris in a Thrift Store on the Left Bank, just down a little street from the Cafe Deux Maggots, I’d cut the torso off. The collar & cuffs peaking from the neck & wrists looked great on him. And they were CLEAN. Weeks before, we’d gone to a barbecue at the Solomon’s. Their teenage son’s band played, guests danced in the sunny yard, and John lifted up an adorable 5year old girl & twirled her around in his arms. She squealed, arching her back, arms flailing –

“ YOU SMELL LIKE A SQUIRREL’S NEST!” she screamed – JUST as the music stopped! John put her down, blushing. Twenty years older than me, disheveled & always in old clothes, I used to invite him to shower with me just to get him clean….not because the shower accommodated two people, and certainly not because I wanted to share the water!

We bought a bottle of Old Lady’s Gin as a gift, and drove a mile towards the beach, to the Solomon’s. Annie had two round tables with white tablecloths & fresh flower centerpieces in the dining area. She seated us at one with Kurt & Jill…while six art collectors sat at the other table with Syd & Annie. Our conversation was easy and jovial. I told Kurt how much I loved his writing, and surprised him by reciting his poem to him from memory. I hadn’t memorized it, and hadn’t planned to recite it. Once started, the room went quiet til I finished, and to my surprise everyone applauded.

”No one has even mentioned my poem, much less recited it to me.” He said. He was deeply touched. At one point, Kurt appraised John for a minute, then said,”That’s a beautiful shirt. Do you mind telling me the brand?”

He leaned back in his chair and lifted the sweater to his chin, revealing his bare, hairy acreage with bird tattoos on his chest, facing each other in flight! The illusion ruined! “Oh I don’t know,” he said. “Lorraine dressed me in her clothes.” I was mortified, but Kurt laughed. “I hate wearing layers. It’s always too hot!” That was the very reason I’d “ruined” that gorgeous shirt. I thought at the time how kind it was of Kurt to have put me at ease. Over the years, we’d run into each other out in back of an Art Opening or some party, like juvenile delinquents. We often both had flasks with vodka – both hated the white wine served at such events – and were both the only smokers left in civilized society. Once, I asked him about the layers. “Oh yes…It was a good idea. Nobody wears Dickies! I was just surprised by John exposing himself with those other SNOBS watching.” I said “That’s probably why he did it. Plus, he was so nervous in the company of strangers he drank up most of that bottle of Old Lady’s Gin.” He chuckled. “Well you never seemed drunk. But you must have been sick, from that juniper berry smell.”

True. We didn’t feel drunk til we got in the car. The streets were empty – I still didn’t know how to drive – John swerved slowly all the way home, saying “Oh god oh god oh god”as we went close to a tree…down in a ditch..up on the road…over the curb. He parked in the grass, inches from the cottage, and turned off the motor. “Now I know what it’s like to drive like old people fuck,” he mumbled. We stumbled in the house & spent the night so dizzy we each had one foot on the floor…steadying ourselves as the ceiling spun around.

He was right about those berries. I never drank Gin again.(And stopped drinking altogether about 19 years ago). Kurt Vonnegut is the only famous person I was ever that excited to meet. I’m not blasé or cool…and they’re just PEOPLE, after all. But something about his brilliant mind, sense of humor and sad, seemingly depressed demeanor made me nervous. Upon meeting him my assumptions were correct, but he was friendly and kind to me, as well. We could just lean against a wall, comfortably smoking in silence together, and speak only when we had something to say.

His wife, Jill was fabulous. She sent me a poster once, of her black & white photos of nine famous writers, from a museum exhibition of her photos in Philadelphia. She included a lovely note I’ve lost along the way, in this long life.

When you meet thoughtful people, treat them with kindness. I’m beginning to think they’re becoming an endangered species in this messy world!  I’m more grateful every day for the extraordinary people I still have in my life. Too many of them have passed. All mentioned in this little saga are now gone.

Those I’ve been communicating with for years – but have yet to meet in person -are in my thoughts tonight, too, as I write this. Time is speeding by….

Love, Lorraine xox




Birthday Baby, June 22 !

June 22nd, 2023
Still lying down

Still lying down

It’s the anniversary of the day I was born. Thanks for looking in! Rena and I are tempted to dress up like Joan Crawford & Bette Davis, from “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” To illustrate the goings on in this creaky old Victorian…but with the roles reversed. I’ll be Baby Jane in the wheelchair, and Rena can be Blanche. But I’ll still be the one tormenting her! I’ve got some false eyelashes and will complete the picture if I can find some red lipstick.


Bob Dylan wants to know

Bob Dylan wants to know

Meanwhile, let me interrupt this program to do some begging. Poverty has settled in, and I hope a small donation from you will keep the phone & Wifi on, and maybe even a trip to the DENTIST! I’ve lost my jaunty smile, which is devastating to this Laughing Girl! I wear a mask to the doctor, but it’s hard suffocating in it if guests should visit. I don’t want to spend the remaining days in hiding, looking like a toothless old MAMMY YOAKUM! I’m not the beloved cartoonist you so generously donated to for 12years, but I loved him beyond measure. And I’m still here…with no cushion. Click the PayPal button if you’re so inclined, and share what you can. They all add up, and I’d be most grateful!

Pucker up!

Pucker up!

Again, thanks for stopping by. Now for playing the rest of the day. I hope you can do the same. Much love & gratitude. Lorraine xox

Two Years and a Day

February 8th, 2023
The Thinker

The Thinker

Wilson stuck around for as long as he could. Those 12 years went by in a flash, even with the periodic emergencies, most of the days were made up of a routine…breakfast, meds, bathing, trimming his beard, doing our exercises, taking him for a walk. Mind you…this was WILSON, brain injury or no, so he was alternately stubborn, playful, belligerent…but thankfully infatuated with ME. So he never tried to escape & mostly wanted to please me by cooperating.  Luckily, I was well-acquainted with him. I didn’t make him do things he wouldn’t like. He would never just go for a walk! He was used to having a destinations in mind, so the WALK was to the Post Office, where he went several times a week all his life. I had set up a P.O. Box, so fans could write, send donations, and cards. We almost always found something in the box, so the errand was rewarding.

I cancelled it only a year before he passed, even though he hadn’t been able to make it that far any more for several years. Rena had reduced their daily walk to around the block, towards the end. He was getting wobbly, and mostly leaned all over her, pushing her against buildings or parked cars towards the end, looking for all the world like a mismatched pair of drunks, struggling to get home.

I grieved hard the first year, alone, with no special memorial to celebrate this extraordinary artist, as he deserved. But COVID had us sequestered already for two years, and we were only one couple out of millions now suffering. People died in a matter of days, in the middle of their lives, and even the elderly thought they had much more time! But I’d been keeping Wilson ALIVE for all these years, as he slowly declined…he hadn’t taken sick & suddenly died. He was slightly dying every day…but knowing that doesn’t mean I was READY.

This is the 2nd year of his absence, and I’m just beginning to grasp the permanence of his departure. Forcing myself to look directly at it today, I’m hit harder than the first anniversary, when I was still in shock. This is the REALITY now, and it’s time for me to start accepting it. So I’m trying to treat this like a NewYear’s Resolution. I’m sure that like a diet, an exercise program, or stopping smoking, I will have many relapses…or lapses in my resolve. But just because I should start moving FORWARD doesn’t mean I’ll be able to leave him behind.

I miss him terribly, and feel pretty sure he’s still following me around, always snooping and forever eavesdropping on me. I used to get exasperated with that, but now I’m comforted by this notion. Besides, I never COULD tell him what to do! I once hung a Do Not Disturb sign on my studio door, to keep him from bouncing in every 20 minutes to tell me a funny thought or see what I was doing. Telling him to STOP IT never worked, but he never came in if the sign was there.

He respected traditions & boundaries if they were CLEAR. So, I drew  a clock on the sign, with the time when he could expect to be welcomed again, with open arms.

I wish I could hang it on the door now, so I could know in advance when to expect his return….

*Please be so kind as to contribute to the Trust, if you can. I know times are hard for everyone these days, and I am no exception.I’m now sleeping in a hole in this ancient bed! I want an adjustable frame & new mattress, so I can stop waking in pain over & over all night long, struggling to get comfortable. I’d be most grateful..as even a small donation from many starts adding up. Thanks! xo

♥️July 25th Wilson’s 81st Birthday!♥️

July 25th, 2022
S. Clay Wilson by Drew Friedman

S. Clay Wilson by Drew Friedman

San Diego Comic Con has been going on all week, so I’ve been looking in on Instagram to see Wilson’s pals rocking out, posing for photos and remembering him getting ready to go to it years ago.

”Is that all you’re taking?” I asked,  looking at his little bag. He was dressed up in his  pale striped blue seersucker Summer suit, white dress shirt, polka dot tie & straw hat. He looked ever so much like Mark Twain’s shirttail relative, perhaps a traveling Bible salesman in the South, except for the baby blue suede Italian loafers & pocket square, which suggested a more sophisticated sartorial splendor.

”What else do I need? I’m just wearing this for two days & Ill be back.” Oh yes…a long hot drive from San Francisco in a full car all the way down & back, plus two long days in a packed Convention Center which is – according to his measurements – a MILE LONG. I sniffed.

I stuffed in a couple more of his “smalls” & another pair of colorful socks, took a shot of him under the bay windows outside, and he was gone, toting his worn out boxy briefcase, covered in stickers, and his tiny leather duffle bag with razor & toothbrush. I discovered his extra underwear & socks on the bed later.

Wilson was an overexcited big KID all his life. He was maddening, hilarious, fun & funny. Birthdays were his favorite Holiday, and he routinely remembered other’s special day by calling to sing Happy Birthday to them at the crack of dawn at the top of his lungs. Then, before they could make a peep, he’d hang up.

Every year in early July, he’d start the campaign for his own Birthday, writing & calling everyone around the world to remind them of the upcoming date. God forbid he should receive no cards or calls on the 25th! They arrived en masse in the weeks before. He stacked them, unopened, until the proper time….ON his Birthday.

I miss him every day.

I’m celebrating your Birthday today my darling, my last husband, my favorite pain in the butt! I’m so grateful for all our memories together that comfort me today & make me chuckle. I forget all manner of little things, but I’ll never forget YOU. ♥️♥️♥️

June22 National Holiday for Lorraine!

June 22nd, 2022
Pucker up!

Pucker up!

Wednesday, June 22, I officially turn into Methuselah. How could I possibly be THIS OLD yet so childlike? Or is it childish?  It’s not likely for me to decide.
I’m writing to admit that I now barely venture beyond this room. After Wilson passed, I succumbed to what was already coming but had fought valiantly in order to take care of him as I’d promised. COVID made surgeries impossible, while deterioration & pain have continued to increase. Now, Wilson’s caregiver Rena is tasked with taking care of ME! It might be creepy if we didn’t laugh at each other as much as we always have. I’m grateful for her help as well as her company.
I don’t know WHAT I’m going to do in the future. I only know I have much to write, much to organize, and very few resources. I was good at fundraising for Wilson for 13 years, and his fans & friends were all so generous & donated regularly to the Trust to help with his care, comfort & entertainment. It’s not NEARLY as easy to ask for such assistance for myself. But I’m asking today on my birthday, in hopes you will click on the PayPal button on behalf of ME! Wilson is gone, but I’m still here, with the same needs but less money now. Rena isn’t allowed as many hours by IHSS, to care for me, so she’s making half as much as she did taking care of Wilson, which is why I’m inspired to ask for help. I can’t bear to lose her. I won’t let her look for another patient for more hours. I can’t KIDNAP her…but I COULD give her something extra, from the Trust…if donations resumed.

I know! It’s not very FESTIVE to be BEGGING on my Birthday! I hate it! I’m so uncomfortable about it I’ve now written the most TEDIOUS post ever. I hope to write something far more entertaining another time, when I’m not so mortified.

Happy Birthday to me! I wish Wilson was here. He always gave me the BEST little drawing to celebrate this day! But a couple of presents have arrived, which I’m waiting to open with my morning cup of tea, after Rena arrives.
I hope this finds everyone well. Thanks for reading this. I will follow up with a more amusing anecdote another day. Peace & Love, kiddos!



February 9th, 2022
King Neptune and his Mermaid, Druid

King Neptune and his Mermaid, Druid

I wrote something about this Anniversary on FB, Instagram and Twitter. It’s been a year, missing Wilson every day.

I will return shortly with something worthy of your time! But for today I’ll just say thank you for being there and for donating to the Trust even after Wilson’s passing. The Trust is still here, the PayPal button still works, and I am still struggling.

I’ll soon share new pictures, and tell new stories. I’m tryna get strong so I can get outside with Rena’s help….before I turn into a mushroom under the house. Yes…She has stayed on as my caregiver now. I’d be lost without her!

I SHALL RETURN very soon.  Love to y’all……

Happier New Year!

January 1st, 2022


I just tried to download new pictures, but here I am, on New Year’s Eve, and it won’t work AGAIN.

I will come back very soon, after I finish TEARING MY HAIR OUT and communicate with y’all, my beauties. For now, I think I’ll watch the fireworks in Dubai and get over this TEMPER TANTRUM I’m having about technology. And the world. And EVERYTHING. Oh shhhh. Just BREATHE, Lorraine…..and don’t go back in the kitchen til tomorrow!

Things will improve in 2022 or this tantrum might become permanently lodged in my sparkling personality.

That’d be positively revolutionary.

H E L P!

Hello out there in the World!

September 17th, 2021
Dear Charlie…

Dear Charlie…

No…I have not fallen and can’t get up. Well…not AGAIN anyway!

I am, however, stumbling about in this Museum of Art & Oddities, trying to make order out of chaos, and gradually making some progress as I adjust to the silence of life without Wilson. Nobody can quite describe what it’s like to have the focus of your every waking moment disappear from one instant to the next… replaced by memories that present themselves in tender reflection…or with unexpected hilarity. But those are the vagaries of the mind. Disorderly & unpredictable. I welcome the funny, endure the tearful and sometimes am gutted by a deep, cavernous longing that nearly brings me to my knees. I’m reminded of a short period a couple of years ago when my doctor prescribed an anti-depressant for me. I thought it was going to make me feel better, but within a few weeks I was way WORSE. So I stopped taking them. One day I raced away from Wilson to hide n the bathroom, muffling my sobs into a towel.
“Are you okay in there?” Rena knocked & cracked the door open slightly. I waved her inside, where she was surprised to find me grinning, with tears streaming down my face.

“Oh I’ll be fine…now” I said. “Now that I have my FEELINGS back”

I was miserable without them. I wasn’t exactly depressed…but neither was I ever exactly happy. I’d been stranded somewhere in an empty field where there were no feelings at all. TORTURE! I missed them. ALL of them. Feeling nothing was no comfort to me.

So I’m here in this unnatural solitude, jabbering on Facebook or Twitter, sometimes answering the phone…often wondering where the hell my PERSONALITY went? Grieving isn’t linear. The ups & downs have no pattern…no formula…time has taken me on this journey without a roadmap. I have no idea where I am in this moment…I’m not always in the driver’s seat. But looking back over these months I do know I’m making some progress. I’m just not entirely certain of my exact LOCATION right now.
The kindness & tech expertise of Zac Weinberg – clear over in Massachusetts – has reinstated the PayPal button, and made it possible to finally download photos on here again! Son of Jeffrey, Bookseller and publisher of  a new book of illustrated letters from Wilson to Charlie Plymel – father & son got together today and solved these problems I was incapable of fixing for over eight months in under one HOUR. I am beyond grateful…I’m overjoyed! A soft-cover edition of this fabulous book will be available soon, at a lower price, so more people will be able to afford to enjoy the fabulosity of Wilson’s prose. He was an inventive master of correspondence. This book will make you wish you’d had him for YOUR pen pal, too. He loved SNAIL-MAIL. He began every morning with a cup of tea, some World Music, putting pen & wit to paper. His workday didn’t really commence until after he’d bounced down to the corner mailbox & sent his jaunty anecdotes off to some lucky recipients. It was his way of “warming up” for a day of drawing. I’ll add a photo here just as soon as I can figure it out!
Thanks for looking in on me. I’ll write again soon & share photos as I find them. Thank you to those who donate to the Trust! It still exists, and the needs are very much the same only a bit worse without Wilson’s Social Security checks. I’m barely able to afford WiFi without your kind donations, much less the telephone or shocking dental issues! My dentist quit after making off with the money I paid in advance, leaving me in the lockdown with what I SWEAR are somebody ELSE’S TEETH….so I’m concealing a shocking secret behind my COVID mask until I can find a new dentist with a creative solution to my PURÉED DIET. This is terrible for a Laughing Girl such as myself! Once COVID is over I’ll have to switch to hiding demurely behind a lace fan until I can afford to start over.

Be safe & stay well out there, all you lovelies!

Birthday Boy – July 25, 2021

July 25th, 2021

Gone swimming

King Neptune & his bride

King Neptune & his bride

Wilson would have turned 80 today. I’m taking him down to the Bay, where I plan to launch him off the end of the dock at a friend’s bar. Something I’m surprised hadn’t already happened to him before, when he was alive!

Ill write more about the ceremonies taking place across the country all the way to France, in the coming week, after I can get someone here to fix this website & PayPal button. I want to include some pictures for you!

I think he’d have approved. He always did so love a birthday celebration..especially his own. I am so sorry he missed this one, but he’s gone off to see the world…a pirate in search of adventure. He must wait for his mermaid Queen to join him at a later date…he will, as always, have exciting stories to tell me…..

Until that time, I carry him gently in my heart.