The Smoking Room
Welcome to The Smokeroom—where the joint is lit, the talk is real, and nothing gets filtered. Pull up a seat in the haze and catch uncut riffs, stories, and vibes straight from the heart of fineherbsandglass.works.”
“Step into The Smokeroom—public vibes, private thoughts, rolled fresh daily.”
Session one 10/2/2025 approx midnight
(editors note: In the video, fineherbsandglass.works states it is Aug 2, he was in fact, simply already stoned to the bone)
Tonight we step outside, beneath a midnight sky stitched with stars, flame in hand, lungs eager, spirit wide open. Welcome to The Smoke Room — not just a blog, not just a video, but a ritual. A circle of raw honesty, of elevation, of uncut truths whispered into the night air. If your eyes find these words, if your spirit shares this flame, then you are already woven into the fabric of history.
Light your bowls, spark your joints, heat your rigs, kiss the fire to your sacrament — however you rise, rise with me. I’ve got mine lit. And the smoke that leaves my lips tonight is more than THC; it is intention embodied, prayer carried upward in spirals.
It is August 2nd, just past midnight. Day three since I stepped away from the shackles of the nine-to-five grind. Day one of giving everything I have to FineHerbsAndGlass.works. Truth is, this space doesn’t even exist on the website yet — but that’s why this moment matters. The Smoke Room begins in liminal space, before the code, before the merch, before the market. It begins in fire. It begins in smoke. It begins right here, right now. And if you’re burning alongside me? Then you’re not just a fan — you’re a legend, part of the origin story.
The World We’re Living In
Let’s be blunt: the world is unraveling at the seams. The American dream is on clearance, marked down to dust, while billionaires laugh from their golden balconies. Systems are collapsing. People are scraping by. The gears of empire grind bones into dust and call it progress.
Maybe one day soon we’ll feast on the rich — but until then, we feast on truth. Because the currency has shifted. The new gold isn’t printed on bills, it’s carried in breath, in pixels, in presence. Attention is wealth. Authenticity is power. Those who cling to the mask will drown with it; those who stay real will rise like smoke through rafters.
And me? I’m real to the bone. A lifelong pothead who turned smoke into vision, ash into art. FineHerbs isn’t just about flower in jars. It’s about identity stitched into fabric, culture pressed into cotton, rebellion turned into wearable gospel. You see it in the yawning little nug clutching coffee, whispering: “The only thing I need is coffee and weed.” That’s not just a shirt. That’s scripture for the burnt-out and the wide awake.
Cannabis is more than consumption. Cannabis is communion. Cannabis is culture.
Building Through Smoke & Sparks
After this session, I’ll drift back inside, red eyes gleaming, fingers inked with graphite, sketching out the next wave of nugs. Anti-capitalist nugs that throw middle fingers at oligarchs. Pro-LGBTQ+ nugs that wave rainbow smoke like banners in the sky. Nugs that laugh. Nugs that rage. Nugs that remember.
Because if the system looks at me — at us — and calls us “terrorists” for resisting their grind? Then so be it. I’ll be a nug terrorist with glitter in my lungs and fire in my chest.
That’s the tribe I’m building. Not customers, not consumers, but kin. My people: LGBTQ+. Outcasts. Dreamers. Smokers. Creators. The ones who’ve been pushed to the margins but turned those margins into murals. This is for us.
Smoke Into Flame
This is only session one, the spark before the blaze. Tomorrow, a new chamber opens: The High Society. Exclusive. Deeper. Wilder. Content too raw for Instagram, too free for TikTok. To step inside, you’ll need to make a purchase — not because the door is locked, but because survival costs.
Don’t stress: there will be low-ticket drops, coffee-and-weed staples, little offerings to keep the door open to everyone. This isn’t gatekeeping. It’s lifekeeping. I lost my job. I chose the hustle. I’d rather build a living flame with you than spend another breath fueling a system that feeds on souls.
Reflections From the Flame
I won’t lie — I’ve changed. Some of my old tracks carried the poison of misogyny, echoes of a culture that taught me wrong. I’ve burned those echoes down. I’m still burning. Being a husband, being a father, forced me to confront the ways I’ve failed women, failed community. Growth is jagged, uncomfortable, but necessary.
In this circle, we move differently. Here, we respect women. We respect trans people. We respect people. Full stop.
We live. We love. We laugh. We spark. We grow. That’s what The Smoke Room is about.
Closing the Session
So ash your bowls. Save your roaches. Let your lungs rest easy. If you vibed with me through this first session, consider grabbing something small from the site — not just to support me, but to keep this flame alive. Because tomorrow The High Society opens its doors, and trust me — it’s gonna be lit in ways the algorithm will never allow.
Stay elevated. Stay real. And remember: the smoke doesn’t just fade. It carries. It remembers. It tells stories. Tonight, it told ours.
Session Two
10/3/2025
editors note (Herb's got so stoned the previous day, he thought he was still in august on today as well, it is infact october and he was in fact, simply stoned to the bone)
The Smoke Room: Session Two
“I Know”
It’s a bright, reckless Friday — August 3rd — sunlight blazing like it’s got something to prove. I step into the day with no job and no fear. I feel good, man — real good — for somebody the system would label “unemployed.” But let’s be honest: I’m not jobless. I’m just free.
See, belief? That was last season. That was Pisces talk — faith without proof, hope without evidence. But now we’ve entered the season of Aquarius — the age of knowing. This ain’t about “I believe.” This is “I know.” I know my people gon’ support me. I know somebody out there scrolling right now thinking, yeah, I need that Dragon Ball Z pipe. Somebody else gon’ see that Portal Gun piece and think, yo, that’s next-level. Somebody gon’ scoop a tee from the site and wear it like armor. I know it in my bones — it’s a frequency thing. So I ain’t trippin’.
The sun’s so bright I can’t even see the flame, but I know it’s there. The fire don’t need to be seen to be real. Just like faith — or better yet — just like knowledge. So I breathe in, and I let the smoke rise like a signal, a prayer, an algorithm of energy.
Let this session be an anchor, a quantum net of time and space, holding us steady in the sea of chaos. From this spark, may positivity ripple outward, catching on every wave, every heart, every homie who needed a sign that life still loves them.
Because that’s what this is — communion through combustion. Sacred spirit of cannabis. Holy act of inhalation.
And yo, I gotta say it — Goddamn, that sativa hittin’.
Freedom Ain’t Safe, But It’s Sacred
Yeah, I lost my job.
Yeah, I cashed my last check.
But when I lost that job, I found my freedom.
No longer chained to the corporate clock — no more trading hours of my life for coins that barely buy peace of mind. Nah. I’d rather be broke and breathing my own air than paid and suffocating under somebody else’s ceiling.
And yeah, there’s uncertainty in this. But were the ancestors certain when they walked off the plantation into the unknown? Hell no. Freedom don’t come with a guarantee — it comes with grit. You gotta walk by the light of your own courage.
So here I am, stepping into the unknown, investing what little I got into what’s mine. FineHerbsAndGlass.works. My vision. My work. My joy.
And I’m telling y’all: don’t wait ‘til life punches you into purpose. Don’t wait for the layoff, the breakup, the burnout, the collapse. Start building now. Build while you comfortable. Build while you safe. Build before you’re forced to.
LLC your dream. In Illinois, it’s about four hundred bucks — that’s less than some folks spend on sadness in a weekend. Bet on yourself instead.
Smoke as Scripture
I ain’t out here tryna be a preacher — but if my path can be a beacon, then let it shine.
Because life gon’ be life — that’s the deal. It’ll break you, rebuild you, bless you, confuse you, and still expect you to show up smiling. But if you keep your eyes open, hands open, heart open — blessings gon’ find you.
And if the day ever come when life itself gets too heavy — when death starts whispering like an old friend — even then, you got nothin’ to worry about. ‘Cause peace don’t disappear, it just changes form.
That might sound dark, but it’s real.
You get one shot at this — one ride in this body. Live it loud. Live it messy. Live it high if that’s your vibe.
Don’t let a bad moment trick you into thinking it’s a bad life. You can still turn lemons into THC lemonade, trust me. I’m out here doing it right now.
Rising Higher
A lady walk her dog past me and almost make me drop my rig — I didn’t flinch though. Growth. That’s what that is. That’s composure under pressure.
But let’s keep it real — I’m not high enough for this kind of sunlight. I take another dab. You take another too. Pack it, torch it, smack that bitch. Let’s rise together.
Because every hit is construction — I feel it. Every flame is a hammer, every inhale a blueprint. I’m building something invisible but unshakable. My consciousness, brick by brick, puff by puff.
And I gotta laugh, ‘cause how the sober folks out here raw-doggin’ reality?
Like bro — you just… wake up and deal with life? No filter, no flavor, no float? Couldn’t be me.
Some folks don’t need a drug, and I salute ‘em. Others got prescriptions from doctors, which — let’s be honest — is just legal weed with a fancier label. Drugs is drugs. Healing is healing. Don’t play with me.
Cannabis is my communion. My coping. My creativity. My calm.
And for real — if you can live life sober, I salute you. But me? I’m high-functioning and high-frequency.
Closing the Session
Alright y’all — we at the edge of our time. The flame’s still burning, but the moment’s cooling down.
Remember: freedom gon’ test you before it bless you. But it’s still worth every damn test.
Stay high. Stay grounded. Stay knowing.
Because belief fades.
Faith wavers.
But knowledge?
Knowledge stands tall.
Welcome to the Age of Knowing. Welcome to The Smoke Room.