Ben Sinclair Got ‘Stuck’ With Weed

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I was meeting Ben Sinclair at the Lake Shrine in Los Angeles – it’s this incredibly peaceful place that used to be a hotel, but back in 1950, Paramahansa Yogananda turned it into a spiritual retreat. It was a really nice January afternoon, warm and shady. As we sat down on a bench, Ben handed me a couple of kishu mandarins and this Fuji-apple Spindrift – apparently, it’s a flavor he has to order online because it’s so good! We didn’t get far with enjoying our little treat though – a monk in orange robes politely told us that picnicking wasn’t allowed. Ben just laughed it off, grinning and saying, ‘It’s just some oranges!’

After the HBO show High Maintenance, which he co-created with his ex-wife Katja Blichfeld and starred in, Ben Sinclair began a personal spiritual exploration. He’s explored various paths, visiting Hare Krishna temples, spending time with followers of Ram Dass in Hawaii, and learning about the Rajneesh movement (featured in the documentary Wild Wild Country). Now living in L.A. with his girlfriend, chef Jess Damuck, Sinclair is trying something new: sharing his experiences on Substack. He launched his Low Maintenance newsletter in December to document his efforts to quit smoking weed, describing the drug’s appeal as similar to a really addictive snack, like a new flavor of Chex Mix. He recently tried to resist a Buffalo-sandwich variety, but ultimately failed. “I definitely ate it,” he admits. Despite his attempts to quit, he expects to smoke again and enjoy it, at least in the moment.

After stepping away from Instagram in 2019 due to its addictive nature – he even admits to unhealthy relationships formed through the app – he’s now back on social media and finds himself constantly checking how his posts are doing. While this creates dopamine rushes, he considers it a milder problem than drug use. He describes his successful Substack blog, which has gained a large following, as being centered around his own personality. In fact, he suggests the blog is as much about overcoming his reliance on marijuana as it is about moving past the public image, ‘Ben Sinclair,’ he’s created. He believes, like any addiction, holding onto a particular identity for too long can be limiting, and draws a parallel to the stickiness of the cannabis plant itself.

Ten years ago, High Maintenance, created by Sinclair and casting director Blichfeld (an Emmy winner for 30 Rock), was praised for its realistic and engaging depiction of New York City in the 2010s. The show, centered around a marijuana dealer known as ‘The Guy,’ offered touching glimpses into the lives of diverse customers – from young professionals to stay-at-home parents. Through selling weed, he gained access to their personal moments, witnessing both their happiness and struggles without judgment. Looking back, High Maintenance feels like a look at a specific moment in time, capturing the last days of marijuana being seen as countercultural. Today, the drug is changing. Much of what’s available is now too potent for casual use, and the rise of large-scale commercialization has diminished its unique appeal. While cannabis businesses are making money for investors and politicians, those who were harmed by its past criminalization haven’t seen much benefit. Though figures like Seth Rogen and Snoop Dogg are well-known, they lack the countercultural edge of previous generations, and there isn’t a comparable celebrity figure for Gen Z. Like blogging, marijuana has become something of a slightly awkward topic associated with millennials.

Ben Sinclair first realized he had a problem with drugs about twenty years ago, when he was a struggling actor in New York City. He recalls thinking, “I just feel like a better version of myself when I’m using, and I wish I could like myself without it.” By the time the show High Maintenance ended, he was mostly smoking alone. In the last five years, he’s worked as a director and producer on shows like Dave and The Resort, but he’s found it difficult to get new projects off the ground, with many ideas stuck in development. “It just feels like I’m wasting time,” he says. When high, Sinclair can become deeply absorbed in his own thoughts, but he emphasizes, “Fascination isn’t the same as self-love, and that’s a really important difference.” In January 2025, his close friend, writer and director Jeff Baena, died by suicide. Baena had previously told Sinclair that marijuana made him less caring and present. “I acknowledged it, but I didn’t change,” Sinclair says. “And then he passed away, and I still didn’t stop. That’s when I really understood how strong my addiction was.”

I’ve been following Sinclair’s work for a while now, and his new Substack, Low Maintenance, really feels like a continuation of what he’s always done – being incredibly open about his life. It reminds me of what he did after college, when he was stuck in a boring temp job. He created this hilarious, but brutally honest, PowerPoint presentation detailing everything that was going wrong with his life – seriously, he had charts about his job, where he was living, even his STDs! He’d talk about things like getting rejected from a Blue Man Group audition and all these other low points, and he’d present them to his friends like they were accomplishments. It was always funny, but also really raw and honest, and it’s something I really appreciate about his work.

He’s experimented with various spiritual practices, like shaking meditation and ayahuasca ceremonies, all in an attempt to fully experience the present moment. He believes dwelling on the past leads to depression, while worrying about the future causes anxiety. Instead, he prefers to focus on the fleeting thoughts and sensations of now – the simple things happening around him. He might think, “I taste apple juice, I’m enjoying a beautiful garden, I wish I was at Pilates,” but acknowledges that’s simply what is in that moment. He describes his online presence as a strange blend of self-focus, openness, and a connection to something larger than himself, a willingness to both share and surrender. He even playfully admits to being a “fake,” but a genuine one, finding a surprising spirituality in that paradox.

The actor is aware he’s swapping one familiar Hollywood image – the carefree stoner – for another: the wise, bearded spiritual leader. He admits to embodying some of the traits of a guru, including a certain unconventional openness. He jokingly illustrates this by saying he’s willing to admit to enjoying explicit content, something a traditional guru might not. He even draws a comparison to Ram Dass, suggesting the famed spiritual teacher had a hidden, playful side. Sinclair spent time researching Dass and even considered portraying him in a film, going so far as to present himself as Dass’s successor to the spiritual community. This approach proved disruptive and caused friction with some of Dass’s followers. Looking back, he realizes that the conflict and negative reactions he provoked are a more compelling story than a simple, celebratory biopic of Ram Dass.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows around the monastery, a monk gently told us it was time to go. Sinclair, smiling, commented to him that we seemed to fit in well with the monastic atmosphere. He drove us home in a light green Fiat with the license plate SPRDLOV and a playful bumper sticker: “be there later,” a twist on the famous slogan “Be Here Now.” The car belonged to a friend of Sinclair’s named Carl, who he’d met at a Richard Alpert (Ram Dass) retreat in Hawaii. Sinclair quickly added that the partially smoked cigarettes in the cup holder belonged to Carl, not him.

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2026-02-11 15:55