Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about the Rez Juke catch-up (5 of 9).

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Ok, well, I set a goal when I signed up for the "Resurrection Jukebox" , which looks exactly like the requirements for it. Then I amended that goal earlier today when I decided that I no longer felt like just giving up on it. I have resigned myself to the fact that this may not be the most interesting part of the playlist (and I have no idea how I'm even coping with that realization right now ). I haven't allowed myself to wonder what these entries might look like had I decided to write one of them a day, or maybe two every other day, like what makes sense for most normal people to do in activities like this.

I'm grateful that I'm not the only one who waited until the last minute, but this is a ridiculous last-minute low even by my own procrasinatorial standards.

I've over the halfway mark though. Thank your good lord of choice I have zero social life and no aspirations anymore for one anytime soon. Of course, perhaps if I did have one I may have planned this all out a little more appropriately.

And I seriously don't have a good story for this song other than you'd probably be surprised that I dig The Hollies and only know of Cilla Black because I'm sorta addicted to that stupid Songpop game on Facebook.

But someday, one of you might fall in love me with enough to the point you'll compel me to sing this at you. Not to you, because that's what normal people do and I don't like doing normal people things. And I'll oblige, because this is one of the sweetest, emotionally beautiful songs ever written...although Cilla's version is more upbeat and soulful as opposed to the more sensual Hollies offering.

Bodycount (not the Ice-T metal band, but the dead people): Nearly half of Manchester has been in The Hollies at some point, so there's bound to be a headstone or two marking a grave with the inscription "This Is What Happens When There Is No Longer Air To Breathe". And Cilla died back in August of 2015 after a fall...no more air for her either.

"No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound...
nothing to eat, no books to read."
Lyrics.