Seldom, if ever, does a marquee name like Gordon-Levitt give much credence to the creative input of non-marquee names. This value system didn’t come from the ether, but rather from his mother, Jane Gordon, who ran for Congress in the ’70s as part of the Peace and Freedom Party, a feminist and socialist political group who, according to their mission statement, “represent the working class, those without capital in a capitalist society.” Gordon-Levitt, who was born in Sherman Oaks, Los Angeles, was brought up with these ideals. “I think that what I’m doing with hitRECord is influenced enormously by the fact that my parents were social peace activists in the ’60s and ’70s,” he says. “It’s not so much about ownership but about what we can accomplish as a community.”
There’s always fear of the unknown where there’s mystery. It’s possible to achieve a state where you realize the truth of life and fear disappears, and a lot of people have reached that state, but next to none of them are on Earth. There’s probably a few.
Could it be that we, as sophisticated New York foodies, are really just a just a bunch of babies stuck in Freud’s infamous oral phase? Mr. Psychology himself proposed that if a nursing child’s appetite was thwarted during any psychosexual stage, that anxiety could manifest in adulthood as a neurosis. Thus, an infantile oral fixation would spiral into an adult obsession with oral stimulation. While I often apply this theory to smokers and nail biters, perhaps everyone really just wants balls in their mouth. Why? It seems that spherical sustenance has been popping up all over town.
Lately, I’ve noticed an odd food phenomenon in the Big Apple. What started as a meatball craze, with folks flocking to the Lower East Side’s The Meatball Shop, has turned into a full-on gastronomical drift towards all things orbicular. My hypothesis began to take its circular shape whilst dining at bi-level West Village haunt, bobo recently, where my meal consisted of devilled eggs, crab cakes and gnocchi. Circinate coincidence?
Well, I’m screwed. My first word was “meatball” and I bite my nails on the regular. I also consistently order food that I hate. THANKS, BLACKBOOK.