We hear that bottomfeedy lit agent David Vigliano is shopping Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo's journals, which, if they're anything like the rest of his creative output, started out world-changingly awesome and then became so lame they make Pete Wentz seem profound. Also, they're probably more in the vein of the essay about his battle with weirdly-defined celibacy he wrote at Harvard. Remember? "I didn't touch her down there, but I ran my hand up and down her arm, feeling her muscles tense up and twitch as she worked herself more and more furiously. She kept going until finally she let out a big moan and relaxed. I looked down on her, whimpered, and then fell over onto my back and stared at the ceiling, fire-like sensations bursting from every cell in my body." We can only hope there's more where that came from. Or, uh, forcibly-didn't-come from.

In a single blog post, Molly Lambert tears David Denby's latest half-baked column, the "Ur-Quarter-Life Crisis" text 'Garden State,' Ben Kunkel's Emosogynist bildungsroman 'Indecision'" and about ten million other deserving things an entirely new one. She also coins the term [Paul] "Ruddaiasance." We are in love. [This Recording]