ben tumbls up
I'm Ben Eppes. This is my tumblr. It's an easy way to share all of the little dribblings and droppings from my digital life: photos and videos (mine and not mine), links, websites, personal thoughts, musings, rants, etc. This tumbl is for those I love, those I like, and for those I find generally okay.
me, elsewhere:
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me, elsewhere:
ben makes photos - Flickr! - Vimeo - the Twitter
Bananas Exploding on Face (via ineurodreams)
This is one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I think it scares me.
Ha. Ten minutes, late at night with Garage Band, and this is the 20-second result. I used the built-in mic on an iMac and my Granddaddy’s banjo. My very first riff. Here you are, Posterity. Laugh all you like at the metronome in the background.
Christmas Wishlist
I’m skittish when it comes to asking for things. Don’t like to do it. Every year I practice my false humility and I hone my skill at deflecting this inquiry from family and friends: “What do you want for Christmas.” This year I’m being passive aggressive about it. I’m making a list (checking it twice?) online. Friends and family are welcome to make online purchases from Amazon or to ignore the list entirely. However, when asked the inevitable question, I’ll refer you to this post.
Here’s the list on Amazon.com. I’ve got it sorted by priority. Don’t worry about the price. Some of the items on here are very expensive. They’re really there just for my own reference. But there are also several items listed under $10. You don’t have to worry about spoiling any surprises because Amazon keeps purchases made from my list off of my radar. I won’t know if something is purchased. After Christmas, the items will be automatically removed. Neither should you worry about whether or not I already have an item on the list. I’m not dumb enough to buy anything off this list before Christmas, and I wouldn’t have put it on the list if I already owned it. So you’re safe there, too.
If you want to get me something, feel no obligation to stick to this list. I’m sure there are myriad other items suitable for a holiday gift, and I’m certain I’ll enjoy whatever it is, so long as it’s bought with thought of me in mind.
If you have questions, feel free to send me an email or give me a call. In fact, if you like, just send a Christmas Card.
Merry Christmas to everybody!
Smile! (via benoftroy)
Here’s my Granddaddy. I got a chance to spend some time with him and my Memaw, and Pawpaw this year for Thanksgiving. We had a blast, ate to much, and watch a ton of football. I also got to play resident techie for the long weekend, fixing and teaching and resolving as many computer-related issues as possible.
This is one of my favorite videos. It’s a peek inside my family life. This kind of stuff happens often.
Eva (via benoftroy)
A few months ago I got to have dinner with some of Jordan’s friends from Boston. This angel, Eva, was among the guests. I’m privileged to have met her.
Smoke
I wrote this about a month ago. Jordan hasn’t smoked in nearly a month and a half.
Last night the moon was full and it shone through the slats in my girlfriend’s window. I was laying beside her in her bed and I watched the cold light turn her tears into bright, sharp crystals on her cheeks. Thirteen days ago Jordan quit smoking.
Quitting smoking is the most Herculean endeavor some people ever undertake. I know; I smoked for more than 10 years before stopping nearly 2 1/2 ago. I want to tell you that it’s harder for some folks than for others. For me, it was a blur. I remember being mildly irritated and that the habitual part of it was stronger than the physical part of it.
But for Jordan it goes deeper. On Christmas Eve–this Christmas it will be 6 years ago–lung cancer killed Jordan’s father, Carlton Tadlock. Today, her reluctant-smoker mother, suffers from chronic bronchitis. Christine routinely flees the dinner table to the bathroom in a fit of coughing. Every cough is a stabbing reminder of her father’s suffering, an echo of his own coughs years ago.
So for Jordan, it’s personal. It’s deep. It’s a cruel chore.
And I’m so proud of her.






