mis-addressed postcard

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So, he says, “…I read myself as a narrative character, an authorship, who sometimes seems strange to me, and worthy of sardonic framing or dismissive meta-narrative….,”

O, don’t worry. You just want to imply some self-effacing postmodern plight. That was very well worn decades ago.

“So it goes for the conceptualist mind: a chronic sense of surreality.”

No, you actually love playing philological glyph.

“You are my fantasy reader (a standard writerly plight: anonymous
audience)—”

Sorry to know that. I thought you might have credible insight into being
worth my time.

 “—confession of which probably further undermines my academic credibility to persons who presume that conceptual work should intimate logocentric desire or formal tropology.”

Never met such persons.

Take care.