No nausea. No fatigue. No side effects. Just weed, fasting, and a middle finger to oncology’s broken playbook.

100 hours fasted, glucose spiked, tinnitus screamed back but I’m still standing.

She vanished for three days and came back with incense and attitude. I stayed quiet. She liked that.

Stage 4, no weed, no protocol—just grit, fire, and the IV drip. This is what cancer looks like when the cavalry doesn’t come.

Cannabis never belonged in the war on drugs. It was buried for profit, weaponized for control, and it’s time we drag the truth into the light.

A city of icons, shadows, and late-night honesty. Sofia doesn’t care if you’re watching, but it might just change you if you’re looking.

Watch now (4 mins) | Diagnosed with stage 4 cancer at 58. The doctors gave me the script. I threw it out. This is how I’m fighting back, on my own terms.

I waited until 58 to get a colonoscopy. I thought I was fine, until I wasn’t. This is how ignorance nearly killed me, and how it still could kill you.

Donald Trump isn’t just losing control, he’s lighting the fuse. When a demagogue feels abandoned, it’s not the fall that’s dangerous. It’s the retaliation.

A blunt hymn to self-love, weed, and the burning beauty of staying high when the world wants you small.